


Tapestry

by lady_deathangel



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Arranged Marriage, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fantasy, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Oral Sex, Other, Violence, War, Warning: Kate Argent, Werewolf Discrimination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 02:50:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 37,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2332532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_deathangel/pseuds/lady_deathangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war between humans and lycans has waged for as long as Allison Argent has been alive. She's not surprised when she's taken captive by the enemy, though the bond she forms with her fellow prisoner is unexpected and not entirely welcome. What she's not prepared for is what happens when the war comes to an abrupt end. As a sign of peace and goodwill to the realm, she's locked into an arranged marriage with the Alpha wolf. Duty and honor keep her at Wolf's Keep but haunted by her past and disenchanted with her future, Allison struggles to move forward and forge her own path through a life that's never truly belonged to her before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tapestry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosewindow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosewindow/gifts).



> This was an unexpected labor of love. I set out to write my first A/B/O fic, decided to make it an OT3, throw in some fantasy elements, add a war, and thousands of words later here we are. I can only hope that the experience of reading it can be as exciting as it was writing it. 
> 
> Note: I tagged everything I could think of that might be triggering or troubling but don't hesitate to alert me to any that I missed.
> 
> As this was an eleventh hour effort, I have to first thank the mods for being so gracious and granting me the extensions that allowed me to see this thing through to completion. I appreciate your kindness and accommodation more than I can say.
> 
> Thanks also to W who is the greatest cheerleader and friend a neurotic writer-person like me could hope for. This never would've been done without them and my love is too big for words.
> 
> Finally to my recipient rosewindow, I sincerely hope you enjoy this humble gift. A little birdy told me you like Scott/Allison/Stiles and I thought I'd try my hand at giving you something that's hopefully interesting, unique, and full of heart. If I could accomplish just one of those things for you, I consider it a job well done. Please accept this fic and may it bring you some joy.

There was a leak.

It was such a mundane detail but it was what drew Allison out of the deep, dark of unconsciousness and back into the land of the living – the unsteady drip-drip-dripping of water against a stone floor.

Something about the sound was unsettling even before she remembered where she was and, more dimly, how she’d come to be there. It left her twitchy and grated along her nerves until her teeth clenched and her breath came in ragged puffs. If she’d had the mind for it, she might’ve wondered if it was a purposeful tactic. She might even have been impressed.

As it was, right on the heels of the sound came pain. It started in odd spots – her back, her left ankle, her right arm. Before she could take stock of any injuries, the ache spread until her head throbbed and her entire body felt like one tight, sore muscle. She’d been trained to handle bodily discomfort but that didn’t stop her from groaning when she blinked her eyes open and forced herself to sit up.

There was a flare of pain that threatened to knock her back onto the ground. She squeezed her eyes shut and breathed through it, her father’s voice low and soft and firm in her mind –  _It’s nothing you cannot control. Nothing you can’t handle._  When it faded enough to be manageable, she tried to figure out where she was.

It was indoors and dimly lit. Torches lined a long hall on the other side of a barred door. A prisoner, then, despite the lack of shackles or ropes keeping her immobile. It didn’t come as a surprise, but the confirmation made Allison’s chest tighten up with fear and no small amount of anger and shame. Shame at having been taken. Anger at the beasts she’d allowed to become her captors.

Based on the dank smell in the air and the dampness of the stone beneath her hands, she was likely in a dungeon.  _That_  was a bit unexpected. Dungeons seemed like such human things. She’d expected the lycans to throw their prisoners in pits, maybe, or keep them in caves deep in the woods. It was what they’d always done before, but war changed things. They’d probably slaughtered some poor family and taken over their home just to play at human.

Allison shuddered and tried to push to her feet. She nearly made it but she was too weak to hold herself upright. The world started to spin and her trembling legs buckled. Her knees cracked against the floor and she cried out, unable to bite the sound back.

It seemed to echo around her, a sharp, stinging sound of weakness. She wished she could take it back. One of the beasts had to have heard her.

She waited, breath held, but no one came running. Whatever they wanted with her, it seemed they were content to wait it out.

There was a bed of straw on the far end of the small cell covered by a blanket, a pitcher of water and a cracked goblet next to it. Allison took a deep breath and dragged herself across the floor until she could collapse onto the straw – more comfortable, at least, than the damp stone – and eyed the water pitcher warily. It could be fine. It could also be poisoned.

She realized, through the dim haze of exhaustion and pain and fear, that she was hungry and thirsty but she’d rather see herself safe than dead.

Someone would come sooner or later. Whoever had taken her had made a huge mistake. Her family would be looking for her and they’d burn the countryside down to find her. It was only a matter of time. If her captors could be patient, so could she.

Allison closed her eyes and steadied her breathing. She kept her father’s voice at the forefront of her mind, easing her into quiet meditation, telling her to stay calm, urging her to save her strength for the inevitable fight.

Somewhere in the dungeon, the water dripped on and on and on. Allison clenched her teeth and ignored it.

_._

_They say there was peace once but after decades of war there are entire generations so far removed from it that it sounds more to them like myth than reality._

_The Argents have a library, though, the most extensive collection of records in the Twin Kingdoms. It tells of peace, of a time when humans lived in ignorance of what monsters hid among them. It was, the books say, a false peace._

_“If we had but known,” is a common refrain in Allison’s great-great grandfather’s journals._

_Allison is young, still hasn’t even Presented, when she looks up from her studies and asks her mother, “Could they have stopped all this?”_

_Mother doesn’t even look up from her own pile of maps. Grandfather has kept her from the front lines since before Allison was born but Father always says their entire army would be dead without her mind for strategy. She’s got her own eyes and ears on the battlefield, Allison knows, and a keen understanding of how the beasts work that surpasses even Father’s._

_She’s Allison’s hero but Allison secretly wishes she would be more of a mother._

_“They could have,” Mother says._

_She taps a finger against one spot on the map. Allison cranes her neck to see across the wide table and catches the word BEACON before Mother pulls out a different map._

_“How?” Allison asks, sitting back in her chair._

_“How what, Allison?” Mother snaps._

_Allison flinches but she knows better than to pester her parents when they’re working. She also knows better than to back down just because she’s been yelled at._

_She tilts her chin up and asks, “How could they have stopped it?”_

_Mother raises her eyebrows and fixes Allison with a stare that makes her feel young and stupid all at once._

_“They would have killed them, of course.”_

_The words send a chill down Allison’s spine but she fights off the shiver. Mother hates when she shows weakness._

_“Even if they’d done nothing wrong?” Allison asks, voice small._

_Mother sighs and turns back to her maps._

_“They were born monsters,” she says. “That’s always reason enough. Now back to your book.”_

_Allison returns her gaze to the journal but the ink blurs before her eyes. She blinks away the tears before Mother can see them and pretends to read._

_._

“Unhand me!”

The shout echoed through the dungeon and jolted Allison awake. She sat up and stared out at the hall where she could hear the shuffle of one pair of feet and the slow, even steps of another.

“Should’ve knocked that one out,” someone called, the voice low, amused, and distinctly female. “He looks like a bit of a handful.”

Someone else grunted and said, “A helping hand wouldn’t go unappreciated.”

“And  _I_  would appreciate if you’d stop talking about me like I’m not here. I’d  _also_  appreciate it if you’d  _get your sodding hands off me_.”

The woman laughed this time and said, “Best of luck with that one,” before her footsteps disappeared back up to the main house.

The moving pair of feet didn’t falter, though the captive spat out a few more curses and seemed to put up as much of a fight as he was able. Allison figured him for human which meant his strength, however impressive it might be, wouldn’t be enough to faze the beast holding him.

A handful of steps brought them into Allison’s line of sight.

She took note of the beast first. He was tall and broad with ink-dark hair and the beginnings of a beard shading his face. Allison was startled at first by how handsome he was and then by how human he looked. She’d only ever seen the creatures half-turned, mouths gaping with fangs and eyes glowing unholy colors in the dark. Somehow, even knowing otherwise, she thought they would always have the look of a monster to them.

While the rest of him looked relatively normal, his hands were another matter entirely. Allison followed the lines of his impressive arms to where he had a tight hold on his captive. Wicked-looking claws emerged from the skin where human nails would be. Allison knew from experience that they were sharp enough to flay flesh from bone. And yet they didn’t pierce skin now. In fact, the beast’s hold appeared almost . . . careful.

Allison looked to the captive for answers. Perhaps, she thought, he was simply an important hostage and any harm done to him would ruin whatever plans put in action by kidnapping him in the first place. But his face was unfamiliar to her. The Argents, being well-connected and all but related to the King himself, knew every noble family in the Twin Kingdoms. Allison had grown up alongside the sons and daughters of some of the most important people in the realm.

Whoever they’d taken wasn’t of any noble blood Allison could immediately recognize. He didn’t appear to be a soldier, either. His clothing was non-descript as was his visage – on the attractive side of average to be sure, but certainly too boyish and slightly odd to make him stand out in a crowd. Compared to the beast holding him, he was pale and plain save the small, dark spots spattered across his skin.

Surprisingly enough, he was nearly of a height with the beast. But he was also slender and young. All of his squirming did nothing but make him look like a worm on a hook.

“Would. You.  _Stop_?” the beast gritted out between his teeth.

Allison imagined a hint of fang when he twisted toward her cell.

“Oh, well, because you asked so kindly,” the boy retorted and then, quicker than she thought possible, one of his legs flailed back and up between the beast’s legs.

The kick must have connected because the boy dropped to the ground while the beast howled in pain. There was a frozen moment where the boy stared wide-eyed at the beast and then bolted back the way he’d come.

“Wait!” Allison called.

It was selfish of her. There was no chance the boy would make it far but still, calling him back ensured he’d stay caught. But Allison was tired of being behind bars and if he could help get her free, they stood a better chance of escape.

The boy hesitated but didn’t stop. Didn’t even glance back.

The beast growled under his breath and straightened up, apparently recovered. He spared Allison a pitying glance.

“You’re not nearly as observant as they’d led us to believe,” he said.

She opened her mouth to retort and ask what that meant but he was already gone, moving so fast his bulk was just a blur. There was a yelp and Allison darted to the bars, stretched her neck to look down the hall.

The beast had the boy again, this time slung over his shoulder like a sack. The boy kicked and yelled and cursed but he was out of luck, the opportunity long gone.

The rest of the cells in the dungeon must have been empty. Going on what felt like days, Allison hadn’t heard a sound down there she hadn’t made herself. But the beast chose the cell across the way, throwing the boy into the far corner and slamming the door shut. He slid a key in the lock and, with a click, Allison was no longer the only prisoner in the dungeon.

There was movement in the shadows but the boy seemed quelled for now. That was fine by Allison. She could more than fill the silence with questions of her own.

“What do you plan to do with us?” she demanded.

The beast paused and looked at her. Even in the low light his eyes had an intensity that made her stomach squirm, like he might be figuring out just how all her pieces fit together so he could take them apart later.

“I have no plans,” he said before striding off.

Allison glared at his back and pulled the one card she’d wanted to sit on a bit longer.

“And your Alpha?”

The beast stopped in his tracks and turned slowly. This time his expression was completely unreadable.

“That’s right,” Allison said, gripping the bars tight in her hands. “I know who you are. You’re one of  _his_.”

“And you’re one of  _theirs_ ,” he replied, voice dripping with disgust. “An Argent.”

His tone rankled and she straightened her spine, summoned up every ounce of pride she’d ever felt.

“By blood and vow,” she said.

The beast scoffed and spat on the ground.

“Congratulations,” he said and sketched out a mocking bow before striding off.

Allison followed the echo of his footsteps until they vanished and made a mental note of about how long the hall was. She wasn’t sure he was the keeper of the keys and personally in charge of them, but it seemed a fair guess. That meant the keys were on his person at all times. And he’d been reluctant to hurt the boy. Allison could use that sentimentality to her advantage.

It took her a moment to realize the sound buzzing in her ears was the boy clearing his throat. Repeatedly.

“What?” she barked.

The sound of her voice was so much like her mother’s that for a moment she couldn’t breathe. Luckily, her fellow prisoner didn’t seem to notice. He’d looped his arms through the bars and studied her with squinted eyes and a pursed mouth.

“Argent,” he said. “You must be Allison.”

“How do you know?” she asked even though it was true that her family was well-known and her own exploits had garnered her something of a reputation, one she was incredibly proud of.

“Because I’m not a complete idiot,” he shot back. “Most of the time, anyway. I do have my moments.”

Something dark crossed his features. He masked it quickly with a crooked grin.

“I’m Stiles,” he said.

“I don’t care,” Allison told him.

He just quirked an eyebrow at her and said, “You will soon enough, I’m sure.”

_._

_“You have to understand, there’s a natural order to things,” Grandfather tells Allison when she Presents._

_Allison already knows all about alphas, betas, and omegas. Those lessons had been the responsibility of her nurses but they’d been too shy, had insisted it wasn’t appropriate. So it had fallen to Mother who had been too busy to bother with such rudimentary lessons. Allison had received the most barren of details and been directed to a section of the library that Mistress Martin refuses to let her access even now._

_“I do understand,” Allison says._

_Grandfather tuts and looks at her, eyes roving over her small body in a way that makes her want to squirm. She stiffens her spine and meets his gaze. It won’t do for him to see her made uncomfortable._

_“The girl is a beta,” Grandfather says in a chastising tone. “You’re an alpha. Your relationship, such as it is, cannot be equal.”_

_“But she’s smarter than I am,” Allison insists. “And of noble blood.”_

_“Her family’s impoverished,” he says. “The girl and her mother would be dead or worse by now if we hadn’t shown them mercy. Now. She’s your maid. She’s to wait on you. Clothe you. Bathe you. But she is not your friend.”_

_Allison bites down hard on the inside of her cheek._

_“Allison,” her grandfather says, voice just shy of a yell._

_She shudders and ducks her head._

_“Yes, sir,” she says._

_A hand comes down on her head and pets her hair. Allison squeezes her eyes shut._

_“Good girl,” he says._

_._

It took nearly half a day for Allison to recognize the heady, tantalizing scent lingering in the air. When she finally did, the beast’s words suddenly made sense:  _You’re not nearly as observant as they’d led us to believe_.

“You’re an omega,” she said.

It was rude and coarse to just say such a thing out loud. Statuses went unspoken, quietly acknowledged by biology but hardly ever spoken of and certainly not with complete strangers. Allison’s family would be appalled, but she couldn’t help herself. Here they had an Argent and an alpha imprisoned alongside a human omega.

There were precious few of them left in the world thanks to the war.  Omega beasts were still rumored to be plentiful, but the humans had all but died out and with them the prospects of continuing a great many noble, alpha bloodlines.

Having the two of them would mean a great deal of leverage and Allison shuddered to think how they might be used.

“My apologies,” she murmured into the silence, flushing hot at the realization that she’d probably offended Stiles and shamed herself.

There was a raspy laugh and then he was back at the bars, sitting this time and looking more tired and wan than he had before, flushed with exertion and outrage.

“I don’t think we need to bother with social niceties down here,” he said. “I just . . . haven’t had anyone figure it out quite so quickly before.”

“I doubt anyone could miss that particular scent,” she pointed out.

“You’d be surprised,” he muttered before adding happily, “And that’s not just me you’re smelling.”

Allison sniffed discretely at the air and separated out the notes of a human omega – sweet and tangy and clean – from that of something else, something more musky and robust.

“The beast is an omega, too?” she asked, surprised at the thought.

“I’m sure he has a name,” Stiles said, a frown tugging at his mouth.

Allison gave a noncommittal hum and leaned her head against the bars. The cool metal felt good against her skin and soothed the hunger headache that thrummed in her temples.

“At least now I know why they took you,” she said. “And why you didn’t come back for me.”

“Because it would have been a fool’s errand,” Stiles said.

Perhaps, but omegas were also notoriously nervy. They had to be, Allison supposed, given the nature of the world they lived in. Omegas were often bartering pieces and breeding stock, traded between alphas to preserve bloodlines or bolster their reputations.

If alphas were wired for leadership and known for being stable, grounding presences, omegas were the opposite. They followed, often blindly, but put their own needs first. They fled in the face of danger because self-preservation was an instinct that could only be tempered if they were mated or bred well.

Stiles would have left her no matter the circumstances because an omega in danger didn’t think of anyone other than themselves and their own.

“You need food,” Allison said instead of fighting him on the point. “And water.”

Stiles groaned and slumped against the bars.

“Oh no, don’t do that,” he said.

“Do what?”

“Don’t  _alpha_  me,” he said. “I’ve lasted this long without one of you knotheads looming over my shoulder telling me what to do and when. I don’t need it now and certainly not from you.”

The words stung somewhere deep, a spot dominated by pure instinct, and Allison frowned at him.

“I don’t know why one would even want you,” she said. “You’d make a terrible mate.”

“Lucky that’s not all I’m good for then, hm?” he replied, voice heavy with bitterness.

She didn’t like him talking about himself like that. She didn’t like him period. But she couldn’t help wanting to look after him. It was beyond her control. Ever alpha was taught to expect these impulses when introduced to an omega and Allison had been given lessons on how to control them.

It would be too easy, Mother used to say, for an omega to take advantage of an alpha who let their baser instincts turn them soft. Stay strong. Stay hard.

Allison turned her back on Stiles and climbed into her straw bed. There was little else for her to do but turn her focus inward once more and meditate on Father’s voice, Mother’s words of wisdom, Grandfather’s orders. On and on, again and again.

_We hunt those who hunt us_.

_._

_“What have you heard about them?”_

_Allison watches in a gilded mirror as Lydia purses her lips._

_“Not a word,” she says, attention seemingly fixed on the laces of Lydia’s gown. “And anyway, wouldn’t you know more about it?”_

_“My parents haven’t said a word other than to order me away from them,” Allison admits._

_“All of that training and you may not even use it,” Lydia muses._

_“Once the treaty’s signed I’ll be just another nobleman’s daughter,” Allison agrees._

_Lydia glances up through her eyelashes and meets Allison’s gaze in the reflection. It’s a quick glance but a searching one. Whatever Lydia sees, it earns Allison a soft smile before Lydia returns to her task._

_“It would be nice, wouldn’t it?” Lydia says. “Peace.”_

_Allison hums in reply but she feels . . . well. She’s not sure_ how _she feels about it all. She’s been raised from a girl to be the Argent heir._

_“Our sons are trained to be soldiers,” Father told her when she was first old enough to hold a weapon, “Our daughters to be leaders.”_

_Ever since, Allison’s lived with the expectation of joining him on the battlefield someday, just like her Aunt Kate. Grandfather’s seemed eager to have her out there with him, fulfilling her duty as an Argent, and the closer she gets to her eighteenth birthday, the more anticipation and nerves she has to fight back every night just to be able to sleep._

_Only all of that is about to change._

_Talia Hale, leader of the Rebellion, has sent an envoy of delegates to oversee a peace treaty that will put an end to the bloodshed. They’d arrived earlier that morning, a small group of five led by a lycan called Deucalion. Allison hasn’t so much as caught a glimpse of them, yet, but she knows Lydia’s probably seen them even if she’s being coy about it._

_Then again, it could just be that Lydia’s in one of her moods. She’s always less warm toward Allison on days like this, when the castle is buzzing and everyone from Mother right down to the heads of the staff demand a certain amount of decorum. Decorum that Allison and Lydia are often fond of ignoring much to Mother’s dismay and Grandfather’s disapproval._

_Allison feels a little sick when she imagines how things will change when Grandfather’s home again. He’s been around very little, is really only a man Allison knows from his brief respites from the war. One of the last times he’d spoken had been their discussion about alphas and betas and propriety between them._

_It’s been easy enough to maintain a friendship with Lydia here at the castle thanks to her Grandfather being away and her Mother being too busy to do much more than sigh at Allison and mutter about how disappointed she is._

_No more war also means her family suddenly having time to be devoted to all manner of details they’ve otherwise brushed aside ever since Allison was a little girl._

_“What if they want to marry me off to someone?” Allison says, the thought coming on suddenly._

_Lydia huffs and finishes tying the laces of Allison’s bodice._

_“They wouldn’t marry you_ off _,” Lydia says with a roll of her eyes that would never be allowed outside of Allison’s chambers. “You’re much too valuable. When the war’s over, I wouldn’t be surprised if other families aren’t clambering to have_ their _children married off to_ you _.”_

_“Well, it will be an omega anyway,” Allison says, turning away from the mirror to face Lydia. “I suppose that limits my options. And means there’s no chance of me and Ser Jackson being wed.”_

_A flush suffuses Lydia’s cheeks, bright red and unfairly fetching. Allison smiles to herself at having stirred a reaction. If Lydia won’t talk about the visiting lycans, the subject of her affections is a good substitute. She narrows her eyes at Allison as if she knows she’s been tricked._

_“I don’t see why that would matter,” she says._

_Allison raises her eyebrows. “Because I’ve seen the way he looks at you? And the way you look at him.”_

_Lydia looks away from Allison and fusses needlessly with her own plain gown, fingers plucking at invisible flecks of dirt with great dignity._

_“He’s a nobleman,” she says. “And I’m the daughter of a disgraced soldier whose mother was a peasant for most of her life and now both of us wait on noblewomen just to earn our keep. Looks hardly matter at all in the face of that.”_

_“Jackson’s a bastard,” Allison points out. “And what do circumstances matter in the face of love?”_

_Lydia laughs, a trilling sound that warms Allison’s heart even if it is partly at her own expense._

_“Love, she says. Allison, love is for children and fools and we are neither. Now come. Your mother will fall into one of her rages if I don’t get you to the Great Hall in time for the banquet.”_

_It’s hardly an exaggeration and they hurry off, Allison’s mind whirling with thoughts of peace and love and duty, her heart entirely unsure of what it feels and her stomach churning with nerves at the prospect of breaking bread with beasts._

_._

It was impossible to keep track of time. There were no windows and no one came to bring them any food. The pitcher of water someone had left behind was empty and had been for quite some time.

Hunger gnawed at Allison’s belly and her tongue felt dry and thick in her mouth. This was, she thought, the longest she’d had to go without. Her entire childhood had been spent living in relative luxury. Even after that, her garrison had been well-supplied. The bread may have been stale, the cheese old, and the meat rare, but she and her soldiers had never had to go without.

Now here she was, embarrassed by every girlish claim she’d ever made of starving half to death between one meal and the next.

Her stomach rumbled loudly enough that she was sure Stiles could hear it. If he did, he didn’t say anything. He hadn’t spoken much, actually, in a while.

Some time ago he’d taken to yelling, insisting that he knew lycans could hear him, but there’d been no response. Eventually he’d drifted into silence, the quiet eerie after all of his incessant shouting until Allison got used to it again.

She sat up and peered across the hall into the gloom of his cell. There was no sign of him. No movement. Nothing. She might’ve been worried for him if she didn’t know that omegas were much heartier than they looked. Heartier, even, than alphas and betas.

It was because of their heats, Lydia had explained when the Argents’ library had glossed over the details. Every few months or so, an omega’s body would shut down for the duration of their heat – a period during which they were at peak fertility.

It wasn’t a topic anyone ever discussed and especially not in Argent Castle. Allison thought it was silly and hurtful, treating omegas and their bodies like something to be ashamed of. But then, that was how they wanted it, her father – an omega himself – included.

But Lydia had been full of information, most of it detailed enough to make Allison blush from the top of her head all the way down to her toes.

“How do you even know that?” Allison had asked.

“Well, not all writers are as prudish about these things as your ancestors,” Lydia had answered primly.

Allison tried to focus on omegas, on the one right across from her and probably doing just fine thanks to his body’s ability to sustain itself on little food or water. For a moment it worked, her alpha instincts flooding her with a wave of concern.

And then she remembered that he didn’t want her worrying about him and there were plenty of other people in her life that she ought to be thinking of instead.

Only she didn’t want to think of them. She didn’t want to wonder what would happen to her home if the tides of war changed in the beasts’ favor. She didn’t want the hard knot that settled in her throat when she thought of her soldiers, so many of them brutally cut down by the unexpected attack that had brought Allison here.

No one had come, yet. Allison didn’t want to consider the thought that there was no one left who could.

“You smell sad,” Stiles croaked. “Stop that.”

Allison bristled and glared into the dark even though she knew he couldn’t see it.

“You can’t possibly smell that,” she said.

There’s a quiet mutter of, “Alphas”, and then the sound of movement. Stiles appears at his bars looking pale and irritated. She’s not sure what  _he_  has to be annoyed about but she doesn’t think he needs much of a reason.

“You’re not the only ones with good senses you know,” he continues. “I know you all like to think you’re special with your strength and ability to get in our heads and make us do whatever you want-”

“I’m not at all like that!” Allison cut in.

He ignored her.

“-but you’re not as impressive as all that. Omegas have a keen sense of smell, too. Keener than yours, probably, since we don’t get distracted every time we catch the scent of something we want to stick our cocks in.”

“I don’t even  _have_  one of those,” Allison told him.

“Lucky me,” he shot back.

On anyone else’s lips the words might have had the kind of meaning that would make Allison want to let fly an arrow right through their skull. But the way Stiles said it, all bitterness and irony, was different. He wasn’t threatening her. He was acknowledging past threats to himself – and perhaps that Allison herself could be one under certain circumstances.

Most circumstances, actually, if Allison took the other alphas she knew into consideration.

“Fine,” Allison said, trying not to ignore the sudden flare of protective instinct. “What do I smell like, then?”

“Sweat,” Stiles answered easily. “Blood.”

“I’m covered in both. Anyone could’ve guessed that,” Allison said, not at all impressed.

Stiles leaned closer and for a moment his eyes caught amber in the torchlight. Then they slid half-closed and his nostrils flared in a deep sniff. Allison tried not to flush or hunch in on herself even though no one had ever done anything half as blatant in her life.

“Wolfsbane,” Stiles said, “the purple buds that grow in fields just south of the Twin Kingdoms. Woodfire and metal.”

His eyes slid open and somehow, impossibly, seemed to find her own.

“You smell like war.”

“You don’t like it.”

There was silence.

“Apples,” Stiles said. “Underneath it all you smell like apples and earth.” He paused and then added, “That I don’t mind.”

He blinked at her and then seemed to remember himself and shuffled back into the shadows of his cell. Allison looked down at her hands, flecked with blood and dirt, calloused and strong, and missed home so terribly it ached.

“You still smell sad,” Stiles said.

“I’m sorry,” Allison muttered, voice tight in her throat.

There was a sigh and then Stiles said, “It’s all right.”

_._

_Allison wakes in the middle of the night to screaming and a hand over her mouth. Ser Jackson Whittemore looms over her bed, blood splattered across his face. Allison bucks up, prepared to throw him off, but someone else makes a sound just over his shoulder. Allison looks up and spies Lydia, a torch clutched in her hand, the flame casting half of her terrified face in shadow._

_“Your father sent me,” Jackson says._

_“He’s going to get us out.”_

_Allison pulls out from Jackson’s hold. “I can take care of myself,” she bites out, body already thrumming to take the action it’s been trained for._

_“Not tonight,” Jackson says. “Tonight we run.”_

_“No! We have the numbers. They can’t-”_

_“They’ve got your mother, Allison,” Jackson cuts in._

_It’s like being punched in the chest the way the breath pushes out of her lungs. Allison looks from Jackson’s grim face back to Lydia, searching for a lie. Lydia gives a nod._

_“Then I have to help. I have to save her,” Allison says._

_She slides out of bed and runs for the chest in the corner, the one where she keeps her battle leathers and a pair of her favorite daggers._

_“No,” Jackson says._

_He reaches out to grab Allison. She reacts without thinking, shoving his arm away and catching him with a tight grip around the throat._

_“Allison!” Lydia hisses. “It’s what they expect. They already have one hostage. Everything’s over if they have you, too.”_

_The words make sense, the logic sound, but Allison doesn’t want to hear it. She wants to fight. It’s what she was built for, not running. But she knows Lydia’s right. Father wouldn’t have sent Jackson to spirit her away otherwise. He’d have come for Allison himself. They’d be planning or already on the attack._

_Victoria Argent is just one hostage – not even an Argent by blood. Allison knows she’s the real leverage the beasts need if they want to start making demands._

_“Then they can have me,” Allison says, because it’s not worth it to flee and survive if she’s to leave her mother here to die._

_She releases Jackson and breaks again for the chest. She hoists it open and reaches for her weapons._

_“Forgive me, Allison,” someone says behind her._

_There’s pain._

_There’s darkness._

_There is no peace._

_._

By the time the omega beast returned, Allison was weaker than she could ever remember being before. It took more energy than she had to lift her head most days. She was aware of her hunger, her thirst, but too tired to be bothered by either.

Stiles kept trying to pull her into conversations, presumably to keep her awake, but she couldn’t concentrate on his words or form her own. She was aware of his voice babbling on, a strange comfort despite the fact that everything he said was lost on her.

She drifted in and out of awareness, her sleep deep and full of strange dreams that left her feeling unsettled each time she woke.

She was shaking off one such dream – a half-remembered, blood-soaked thing – when she registered more than one other voice in the dungeon.

“No.”

It was the omega beast and he sounded annoyed.

“I won’t eat it,” Stiles said.

“It was sent for you.”

“I don’t care. She needs it more.”

There was a low growl but something about it was more put-upon than purely menacing.

“You need to have a care for yourself,” the beast said.

“Maybe you and your uncle should’ve thought about that before you stole me away in the middle of the night,” Stiles replied.

His voice was colder than Allison had ever heard it, harder. It made him sound less like the glib boy she always assumed him to be.  There was a long, chilly silence. Allison wished she could see what looks the two were exchanging in that moment but even once she blinked her eyes open she could barely get them to focus.

“I know we’re not of a kind,” Stiles went on. “But we’re alike in all the ways that matter. If that counts for anything, you’ll see that she’s tended to first.”

“It counts. That’s exactly why it doesn’t matter to me whether she lives or dies and you’re my . . .  _our_  priority.”

It was surprisingly earnest, something in the beast’s tone almost tender, familial. Allison found it curious and might’ve puzzled over it but she could already feel herself slipping away again, too tired to stay conscious for much longer.

At the very edges of her awareness she thought she heard Stiles speak again: “We both know why you’ve kept us down here together. You can’t stop it. I can’t stop it. So let me do this for her.”

 The words were senseless and Allison didn’t even try to understand them. Instead she let go, fell back into that quiet, dark place where she seemed to spend so much of her time.

She came to with a hand on her face, the palms wide and warm and steady.

“Come on, open up,” she heard, and then the edge of something cool and smooth rested against her bottom lip.

Wetness splashed against her chapped skin and Allison’s tongue instinctively chased the moisture, desperate for it. As soon as her lips parted, a smaller stream of water trickled into her mouth. Allison gulped and opened up for more.

“Easy. You have to take small sips or else you’ll just be sick.”

“Don’t care,” Allison managed to mutter.

Stiles huffed out a soft laugh. “You say that now.”

He continued to ease water into her mouth, head cupped in one hand and goblet in the other. After draining two cups, Allison became more aware of her surroundings – the same cell as before, the same barred doors, but Stiles here with her.

He knelt next to her bed of straw but other than his hands, he didn’t touch her with any other part of him. In fact, Allison thought he was going to a lot of trouble to keep a polite distance between their bodies.

“Ready for food?” he asked.

Allison nodded and gathered all her strength to force her body up. Stiles watched her, eyes narrow and waiting for her to tip over, but she got herself upright and offered him a wan smile once she was propped up against the damp wall.

“Look at you, recovering so fast you could be a lycan yourself.”

Allison made a face which Stiles simply smirked at. She wanted to say something to wipe the look off his face, but he cut her off with a piece of bread tucked carefully between her lips. Allison chewed slowly and swallowed, her belly cramping tightly at the sensation of food after being empty for so long.

Stiles seemed to anticipate her body’s response and busied himself with his own bite of food, chewed slowly and carefully, before he gave her another. On it went, Stiles feeding Allison first and then himself, until they’d finished off half a loaf between them. He wrapped the rest in a piece of cloth and set it aside.

“How do you feel?” he asked, settling on the floor.

“Better,” she admitted.

Her belly was full, almost uncomfortably so, but she could already feel the positive effects of the food and water. Her head was clearer and she thought she might be able to stay awake for at least an hour at a time, now. Probably longer but there was no accounting for how dreadfully dull it got down here.

“Derek brought word,” Stiles said after a moment.

For a moment, Allison wracked her brain for any knowledge of a “Derek”. First she realized that must be the omega beast who’d brought them here. Then she remembered that Talia Hale had had a son named Derek, the Alpha’s nephew and one of the last remaining Hales in the realm.

Odd that he was charged with tending to prisoners but then he  _was_  an omega. Perhaps, in addition to their strange manner of making Alphas of alphas, beasts didn’t hold their omegas in any esteem or standing at all.

“And?” Allison asked, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer.

Stiles shrugged one shoulder and dragged his finger across the floor.

“It’s getting worse. Casualties on both sides. The Argents are gaining ground.”

Relief burst in Allison’s chest and she leaned back against the wall. She couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips.

“Good. That means they’re coming for us.”

_._

_“It’s an important village,” Father says for what is probably the tenth time._

_His tone is so curt, now, it won’t take much to push him into a rage. Allison should probably be more gentle with him, obey him and leave him be, but she can’t abide by this stupidity._

_“It’s_ just _a village,” she says for what must be the eleventh. “Ser Jackson could handle the post on his own, lead the garrison-”_

_“Jackson Whittemore is practically a babe and he commands no respect from the men. They think him too well-bred to lead them let alone die for them in battle.”_

_Allison would like to defend her friend but she’s well-aware of his reputation and she can’t say it’s entirely unfounded. There’s something to him beneath all of the swaggering bravado that one could learn to like, but peeling back all of his layers takes time. Time soldiers don’t have, not with the war seemingly reaching its apex._

_“Then Ser Matthew-”_

_“Too unpredictable.”_

_“Then Ser Danny or Ser Violet-”_

_“Danny follows too closely in Jackson’s footsteps and Violet’s much too young and much too bloodthirsty.”_

_“A thirst for blood can only help us,” Allison says._

_Father stops what he’d been doing – studying Mother’s maps even though they make little sense to him and they both know it. Allison resists the urge to flee the tent when he lifts his eyes to her, the weight of them almost more than she can bear._

_“In exchange for asylum, I promised Lady Mahealani that I would keep her lands safe. I won’t trust that task to anyone else. You’ll stay here.”_

_Allison recognizes his tone and hears the words he doesn’t say – that there’s a larger target on the Argents than ever before and it’s a risk for Lady Mahealani to have taken them in after the ambush on their home. Father and Grandfather have had to make a great many promises during the war, but this one is a pact made in the blood only the Mahealanis’ mercy kept from being spilled._

_It would be easy to keep fighting with him but Lydia’s up at the castle, now, along with her mother and the rest of the Argents’ staff. Innocent men, women, and children in need of protection._

_It’s her duty to stay and she’ll do it, but she hates her father for forcing her hand. From the way he looks at her, exhausted and resigned, he knows it._

_Allison doesn’t answer him. She can’t. Any words that might tumble from her tongue would be sharp and ugly and she could never take them back. So she turns on her heel and leaves the tent, chest tight with emotions she refuses to acknowledge._

_Jackson is waiting for her a few feet away, expression nonchalant even though it’s clear from the angry tilt to his mouth that he overheard everything._

_“You can’t possibly agree to this,” he says, falling into step with Allison._

_Father, Allison, and the rest of the soldiers from Argent Castle have already taken up residence in the village, setting up temporary camp until they get orders to move on. Now that Allison knows she won’t be getting those orders, the once quaint surroundings are stifling and too foreign. Nothing at all like home._

_“Did it sound like I have a choice?”_

_“We should be on the front lines._ You _should be hunting your mother’s killers.”_

_Allison bites down hard on the inside of her cheek as the cross the encampment, drawing stares from all of the soldiers who find Allison’s relationship with Jackson curious – a female alpha and a male beta as anything more than sexual companions or a lady and her servant is nearly unheard of. When he walks next to her and speaks to her familiarly, it pulls attention she’d rather not deal with._

_Jackson lowers his voice and says, “He’s an omega in mourning. Maybe you should send word to your Grandfather and relieve him, just until he’s back in his right mind.”_

_Something snaps inside of Allison, something brittle, and it leaves jagged edges behind._

_“You have no authority here,” she all but barks, stopping in her tracks and whirling to glare him down. “You’ve no right to me or my family and certainly none to any decisions any of us choose to make.”_

_Jackson frowns, expression caught between confusion and embarrassment and rage._

_“The next time you see fit to overstep your bounds, beta, I’ll see fit to put you more firmly in your place.”_

_The words are thick and sour but Allison rolls them around in her mouth anyway, revels in the hurt that flashes across Jackson’s face because it mirrors just a tiny bit of her own and_ everyone _should hurt like she does._

_She leaves him there, humiliated and alone, and she doesn’t feel an ounce of guilt about it._

_._

Derek visited the dungeons regularly after that first time and he didn’t drag Stiles back to his cell. Oh, he threatened to do it but it sounded hollow even to Allison’s ears. The begging was worse.

“This isn’t good for you,” Derek said after what must have been nearly a month of them living in dismal conditions.

It had been, perhaps, a fortnight since Stiles had moved into Allison’s cell to nurse her back to strength. She’d recovered remarkably quickly thanks in part to biology – omegas might have been able to sustain themselves for longer on less, but alphas would always recover faster be it from illness, injury, or neglect. The nearness of another human, of an  _omega_ , probably also played a large part.

Neither she nor Stiles acknowledged it. They slept on opposite sides of the cell and they rarely touched now that Allison was well. If Stiles’ scent was an increasingly distracting, drugging thing, she was convinced she could ignore it.

“It isn’t good for either of you,” Derek added.

He spared Allison the barest of glances – the most he ever deigned to look at her – and kept that intense focus of his fixed firmly on Stiles.

Stiles glared right back, not intimidated at all by the fact that he was challenging a beast, omega or no.

“Isn’t this exactly what he wants?” Stiles spat. “Your  _Alpha_?”

Derek’s eyes flashed blue.

“In blood only,” he said, the words disconnected until he continued, “He’s not mine but by blood.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes while Allison gaped at Derek in shock.

The bestiary in the Argents’ library was less concerned with how lycans lived and more concerned with what it took for one to die. As a result, there was still little concrete knowledge about lycans and their family groups, how the alpha-beta-omega dynamic worked among them though it was rumored that they weren’t terribly different from humans.

Their hierarchies were strange as were their customs but the Alpha was an aberration. And everyone knew it.

He’d been nothing but a rumor at first – a creature so powerful no army in the Twin Kingdoms could stop him. No one believed it. He was, to many, a myth and nothing more. And then word came of towns razed to the ground, human bodies mutilated, people taken captive or disappearing entirely. At first there was no proof of it being anything more than the gruesome work of everyday beasts.

Until those missing humans began to turn up on the battlefield, fighting for the enemy, newly turned into the very creatures that had stolen them away.

The bestiary told of ancient lycans, alphas all, who had the power to turn humans with a bite. But the ability became more and more rare until only a handful were able. And then, eventually, only one or two every generation. They were special, powerful, and terrifying. They’d also been the first casualties of the war for that very reason; to keep them from turning innocent humans against their own kind.

News of the resurgence of the ability had traveled quickly, pure terror and renewed hatred following quickly on its heels. It didn’t take long after that for the Alpha himself to surface – Peter Hale, one of the sole survivors of the fire that killed most of the Hale family just months after they killed Allison’s mother.

Allison hated the very sight of Derek, that he followed Peter’s orders and that her mother’s blood was on his hands, but she was rattled at his vehement denial of Peter as  _his_.

“You follow his orders. Seek to please him. How is he not yours?” Allison demanded.

Derek looked at her, finally. His gaze pinned her to the spot and made her insides squirm unpleasantly.

“I would not choose him,” he said.

Here he turned to Stiles, expression imploring once more.

“Do you understand? I want you to have a choice.”

Stiles pushed to his feet and walked to the bars. The curl of his fingers around metal was far more elegant than it had any right to be and Allison had no right to notice.

“Then let us go.”

Derek stared at him and then shook his head and left, cursing under his bread. Stiles sighed and his whole body sagged. Allison was struck with the urge to go to him, to soothe him. It took everything in her to resist and she realized that maybe Derek was right to keep asking. To beg and insist. The longer they were in close proximity, the harder their instincts would work to draw them together.

“He’ll only keep asking,” Allison pointed out. “Perhaps next time-”

“He’s scared of you,” Stiles cut in.

Allison blinked across the cell. It was an obvious and boorish attempt at changing the subject but she was inclined to allow it.

“A lot of people are,” Stiles added. “Not just lycans. You have a bit of a reputation.”

His voice was level but there was depth to it, something he wasn’t saying that Allison could barely sense below the surface. His attention was on the hall, eyes locked one of the flickering torches. The light reflected in his eyes and turned them a fiery gold that reminded her of the beasts she’d cut down on the battlefield.

“You’ve never been scared of me,” Allison finally said.

Stiles made an indelicate sound. It was supposed to be amused, Allison thought, but there was nothing of levity to it.

“Because we’re on the same side of that barred door,” Stiles said. “But if it were reversed, if you were on the other side with your weapons and your family name behind you . . .”

He trailed off and shrugged.

“That’s why you’re over here, isn’t it? The closer we are, the less likely I am to hurt you. That’s a bit of a risk though, isn’t it? I could still hurt you. I could do anything I wanted to you.”

Stiles turned and met her eyes and, for the second time in a small span, she felt held in place by some invisible force. But unlike Derek’s gaze which Allison wanted off of her immediately, she invited Stiles to look. She had nothing to hide from him, nothing she wanted to keep secret or sacred.

“You’re nothing like I thought you might be,” he said. “You won’t bring me harm.”

He leaned his head back against the wall. Allison watched his eyes slip shut, stared at the fan of lashes across his pale cheeks. There was something delicate about him, something precious, and Allison hated the way it made her feel.

_._

_When she’s still small, Allison learns that one day she’ll likely be an alpha._

_“Do you know what that means?” Mother asks._

_Allison’s young, yet, but she knows that everyone is different. Mother and Grandfather and Aunt Kate are all alphas. Father is an omega. Most of the staff are betas._

_“I’ll be stronger and smarter and faster,” Allison says, thinking of everything she’s heard and been told. “I’ll be in charge of betas. One day I’ll marry an omega and we’ll make more alphas!”_

_Mother smiles a bit indulgently, such a rare expression even then, and says, “That’s all true but it’s not just about being powerful, Allison. It’s about what you do with that power. You can’t use it to hurt others, especially omegas. Do you hear me?”_

_At the time, Allison is perplexed at the thought of anyone hurting an omega. They’re special, the only ones who can make alpha or omega babies._

_“Did people hurt Father?” Allison asks, alarmed._

_Mother’s smile fades into something that makes Allison’s heart stop and then beat quicker, a little scared._

_“They tried,” she says. “But he’s mine. And I’m his. One day, when we’ve selected an omega for you, that’s how it will be for you, too. Others might have different customs, different ways of doing things, but you are_ always _to treat your omega with respect and care.”_

_Allison nods. Mother grips her chin and stares down at her._

_“What do we say, Allison?”_

_The words have a bite to them and Allison’s been well-trained to listen. She swallows and straightens her spine and says, “Yes, Mother.”_

_And Mother smiles and says, “Good girl.”_

__.__

They stole Stiles away in the middle of the night.

Time was an amorphous thing in the dungeon but Allison trusted her body’s own natural rhythms. She and Stiles slept at roughly the same time every day and even if it wasn’t “night” above-ground, it was all they had for delineating the times of day.

They were both asleep when it happened, fitful and shallow. The first footfall at the end of the hall jerked Allison awake.

She expected Derek; it had been a few days and they were low on food and water which was usually when he paid them a visit. But the first steps were joined by others – several pairs of feet, all light and careful in the way of lycans. Allison scented the air but there wasn’t an omega tang amongst the musky, fur-and-forest smell of the others.

“Stiles,” she hissed, scrambling across the cell.

“I hear them,” he said, sitting up and curving his body toward hers when she huddled close.

“And we hear you,” a female voice said.

Allison thought it might’ve been the same one from the day they brought Stiles in.

“Kali,” he gritted out between his teeth.

The name dragged across Allison’s memory and made her heart stop in her chest. The beast that stepped into view first was familiar, from the mouth full of teeth to the clawed feet. She’d been a member of Talia Hale’s envoy, one of the monsters who’d taken Mother hostage and then killed her.

“Bitch,” Allison hissed, the word low and ugly and dripping with venom.

“Such an impolite greeting from such a high-born whelp. Didn’t your mother teach you better?”

Allison moved without thought, launching herself at the bars and shoving her arms through the space as if she could catch Kali with her hands and rip her apart.

Kali hovered just out of reach and laughed. The sound grated at Allison’s nerves until her tongue throbbed and she tasted blood in her mouth.

“Such a little spitfire,” Kali said. “You’d make a good wolf.”

“I’d rather die,” Allison bit out.

The lycans behind Kali laughed with her at that, all of them exchanging looks. A couple of them looked familiar – twins and a tall, broad, brute of a thing. They’d been part of that envoy, too. They’d all had a hand in killing her mother.

Here Allison had spent years desperate for revenge and now they were all lined up in a row and she was  _powerless_.

“Allison.”

Her name, spoken quietly and urgently, drew her back to the present and away from the memory of her mother’s body – clawed up and left on the steps of their castle along with the bodies of everyone else who hadn’t escaped.

“Allison!”

There was a soft hand on her shoulder, a softer voice in her ear. Allison inhaled sharply and Stiles’ smell, familiar and warm, soothed her enough return her senses.

Stiles urged her to lower her arms and murmured softly in her ear all the while.

“There you are,” he was whispering. “Don’t listen to them. Don’t give them the satisfaction.”

The lycans looked on in what appeared to be indulgent interest.

“I was going to ask how you’re getting on but I’d say it’s pretty clear,” Kali said. “That’s going to make this all the more difficult for you, ducky.””

She smirked at Allison and then pulled a set of keys from her belt. Immediately the twins flanked her, tensed and shifted. Allison nudged Stiles behind her and backed them toward the wall as the key slid into the lock. It turned with a click and then the twins were on her, each one gripping one arm and holding her immobile.

Allison looked over her shoulder and caught Stiles’ gaze, realization slamming into the pair of them at once.

She felt his arms come around her waist and grip tight.

“Let me go!” Allison yelled, but it was useless. No amount of pulling budged either beast and she knew even at peak condition, even with her weapons and her armor, she was hardly a match for a full set of alpha lycans.

Whatever was going to happen, she wouldn’t be able to stop it and it only made her fight harder.

“Stiles,” Kali said, stepping into the cell. “No one has to get hurt. Let go of the girl.”

“Fuck you,” Stiles spat.

Kali’s eyes narrowed and then she nodded at the twins. Their grips on Allison’s arms tightened to the point of pain and didn’t stop. She gritted her teeth against a scream but it burst past her lips when she felt a violent tugging at her waist.

She opened eyes she didn’t remember shutting and saw Kali trying to pull Stiles away.

“I’ll let them break her arms,” Kali said with a grunt. “They’ll grind the bones to dust.”

The twins gripped even tighter. Allison cried out again, rising up on her toes like she could escape the pain that way. She felt Stiles press his forehead into the middle of her back. Hot breath warmed the skin beneath her thin, dirty tunic. His arms squeezed once and then, just like that, he let go.

Kali yanked him away from Allison by the back of the neck and shoved him out into the arms of the other beast.

“Don’t!” Allison screamed. “Don’t hurt him!”

The pain in her arms, the constant fatigue, all of it vanished at the thought of Stiles in real danger. Her body flooded hot with something she’d never felt before – not for her family or her soldiers or her friends. She would tear the world apart to protect Stiles and that surge of conviction was enough to yank out of the twins’ loosened grips.

She darted for the cell door, eyes on Stiles’ pale, terrified face.

Kali laughed again and stepped between them. Allison  _growled_ , a guttural noise that bubbled up from her throat, and clawed at Kali’s face.

Allison barely registered the way the beast’s face twisted with rage or the bloom of blood under her fingernails before she was being thrown back with a roar. She hit the dungeon wall hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs and leave her half-conscious and dizzy.

“Allison!”

She tried to blink away the spots swirling in her vision as Kali locked her back in. She looked for Stiles and found him, fighting now against the grip on his arms. They dragged him out, kicking and flailing and calling her name and Allison could only watch.

_._

_Leading the garrison is easy. They train. They patrol. They keep watch. So far the village and Castle Mahealani have been comfortably distanced from the war waging throughout the Twin Kingdoms. It helps that they’re near the coast, that the surrounding jungles and forests were cleared of lycans centuries before._

_And yet it feels too quiet to Allison._

_“You_ want _the war to find us?” Ser Danny asks when she mentions it one night._

_He’s Lady Mahealani’s middle son, a fine soldier and friend. Taciturn and insightful at the worst of times, he’s perhaps Allison’s favorite person in the garrison now that she and Jackson hardly speak._

_“Of course she does.”_

_Jackson, unfortunately, is also attached to Ser Danny and the two of them are fair inseparable. Allison might’ve thought it adorable a couple of months ago. Now she hates being faced with the uncomfortable situation of having to interact with Jackson when they’ve yet to make their peace._

_“Jackson,” Danny murmurs. “Don’t start.”_

_“Oh no,” Jackson says. From the smell wafting off of him when he drifts closer, he’s been guzzling ale again. “No, I think now’s a_ fine _time to start.”_

_There are other men and women gathered around the fire but they all stand and leave, casting Jackson and Allison curious glances as they go. Allison sighs and leans back on her hands. Jackson towers over her but wobbles where he stands. She doesn’t feel the need to rise to his level; no doubt he’ll fall to hers soon enough._

_“Start, then,” Allison says. “But remember I’ve no problems finishing it for you.”_

_Jackson sneers at her. “Of course,_ alpha _, how could I forget?”_

_Danny pushes to his feet with a sigh and reaches for Jackson._

_“You need a brisk walk and some water and then to sleep this off,” he says._

_Jackson shakes him off with a glare._

_“You forget that I_ know _you, Allison,” Jackson says. “You’re bitter your father left you behind because you want to be out there with him spilling blood.”_

_“Watch yourself,” Allison says, body tight and humming with sudden anger._

_“You act the valiant leader because it’s what your mother would’ve wanted and you act the warmonger because your delicate feelings were hurt. Everyone here falls all over themselves to follow your every order because you’re an Argent alpha but you don’t care about any of us. You’d run us all right onto the enemy’s waiting claws for your revenge.”_

_Allison trembles, the words hitting too close to home and leaving her angry and scared at anyone having seen straight through her._

_“You’re a spoiled brat,” Jackson finally spits. “A sad, lonely little girl who thinks she’s the only one in the world to have lost something important to her.”_

_“Says the resident bastard,” Allison shoots back._

_Jackson stills. The words sit between them, heavy and cruel. She’s never thrown that in his face, not once._

_“A bastard and an orphan now,” Jackson finally says. “I thank you for the reminder. I’d almost forgotten.”_

_He snaps off a sloppy, mean salute and staggers off. Allison watches him go and then looks up at Danny. He’s staring at her like he’s never seen her before._

_“Go,” Allison says._

_Danny doesn’t even question the order. He runs off after Jackson and leaves Allison alone and shivering in the night._

_._

The cell felt frighteningly vast without Stiles there to lend it his warmth and presence. The whole dungeon echoed, a hollow, gaping space that threatened to swallow Allison up.

She glared into its maw and decided she was done waiting. No one was going to come rescue her. Fine. There were exercises that she could do to build her strength back up. She had her mother’s mind for strategy. She would rescue herself.

The more days that passed, the angrier Allison got with her own complacency. She’d given up thinking that her father or grandfather would swoop in and save her, that they’d make her a priority in a war that’s tide was quickly turning against them. She’d allowed herself to wither away down here. She could’ve done something, anything, sooner. She could have been prepared.

Because she hadn’t been, they’d taken Stiles and she thought she would probably never see him again. He’d be bartered away or, if they thought it might prove some point, killed. Whatever the case, he was gone and Allison was done being a prisoner.

She thought she would wait until Derek came back. He was the obvious weak link; he cared about Stiles and always responded strongly to Allison. She might be able to push or pull him one way or another and use that to her advantage.

Only he never came.

No one did.

Allison sat in her cell day by day, rationing out what food and water she had left while trying to keep her body limber and strong. She woke most days expecting someone and trying to plan what she would do when they arrived, but it never happened.

Eventually, the food ran out again. And then the water.

The torches burned out and Allison realized even when she and Stiles had been starving, someone must have kept them lit while they were sleeping.

The thought of having been completely abandoned was terrifying. She found herself wondering if perhaps the castle they were in had been taken. But no, soldiers would’ve swept the dungeons. If they were looking for Allison, that might’ve been one of their first stops.

So it was something else keeping them. Their plans for Stiles, perhaps? Or maybe they’d just moved on. Maybe all along they’d kept Allison for no real reason; not to provide leverage or be used in any other way. She’d just be another soldier who disappeared. Another loss for her family to avenge.

With nothing to distract her, Allison felt the loss of Stiles keenly and fell into something close to despair, too cold and tired and full of regret to even hope anymore.

Allison imagined her mother in the cell with her, looming in the corner and glaring in that particular, cold way of hers.

“This is pathetic, Allison. You’re not the daughter I raised.”

The words echoed through Allison’s mind, choked her up and left her light-headed.

“That’s because you didn’t raise a daughter,” she said, voice rough and dry and weak. “You forged a weapon. And now I’m useless.”

“Because you  _choose_  to be,” Mother yelled.

Allison flinched and blinked back tears. By the time her vision cleared, Mother was gone.

On and on it went. She saw her Aunt Kate sometimes, kneeling by her bedside and speaking in smoky whispers.

“The problem,” Kate said, “Is that you don’t know who you are. You feel like a child inside, don’t you? Those girlish desires for love and peace, they still keep you warm at night. But the things you’ve done, what you’ve seen . . . you’re no girl, Allison. You’re a killer, just like the rest of us.”

And she was. That was the terrifying, ugly truth of it all. Allison was a weapon and a killer and she’d never wanted it. She’d become something unrecognizable and she hated herself for it. She deserved this. The dungeon. A cold, lonely death. She’d earned it.

“Don’t be silly.”

The voice was different this time. Calm, matter-of-fact, but warm. Allison squinted into the darkness until Lydia formed herself from the shadows, all soft red hair and flushed cheeks. She sat beside Allison and ran a hand over her hair.

“What have I always told you?”

Allison could hardly think to remember.

“You’re your own person.”

A gust of breath burst from Allison in the tired approximation of a laugh.

“You never said that,” she croaked.

“Well, I thought it so often and so loudly I thought you just  _knew_. It’s true though. You don’t belong to anyone but yourself. You can be whoever you’d like to be but you can’t do that unless you get out of here. Do you hear me? You can’t make it all up to Jackson or make sure I’m safe or make it all right unless you survive.”

Allison let her eyes slip closed and thought she felt a feather-light touch to her cheek and a different voice – Stiles, familiar and dearly missed – in her ear.

“Survive, Allison.”

 _._

_The beasts come after a time but not in any numbers the garrison can’t handle. They fight them back, manage to kill more than a few using tricks of the Argent trade. The deaths of their comrades leaves the lycans rattled and sends them running._

_They return and it all happens again._

_Allison comes more and more alive during each skirmish. The first time she lets Jackson lead the men on foot and, from afar, she lets fly arrows blessed by the village priests and dipped in wolfsbane water. The second, she joins them with daggers in hand and cuts through the enemy with frightening precision._

_The villagers are grateful, Lady Mahealani impressed, but Allison hears the way people speak about her. They say it’s like she’s possessed in battle, overtaken by rage._

_“They say the same things about me,” Ser Violet says one day._

_They listen as villagers pass through the garrison, a pair of healers sent to tend to the wounded. They speak in low voices but cast skittish glances Allison’s way and refuse to even look at Violet._

_With good reason, perhaps. She wears a necklace made of the fangs of her kills, some of them still tipped in blood. Allison never would have said they have anything in common. She certainly doesn’t revel in bloodshed like Violet does. And yet they’re together, sharpening their knives and frightening the locals._

_“I find it funny,” Violet goes on. “The men are regarded with honor and the women with fear.”_

_“They don’t seem frightened by Ser Heather.”_

_Violet snorts and searches Heather out. She’s sitting in the sun, a young soldier at her side, head tipped back in a laugh. She weaves a crown of flowers in her hand, the sight completely at odds with the sword across her lap._

_“Baby animals wouldn’t be frightened by Heather. Look at her. She’s nothing like us. She’ll be dead within the year.”_

_Allison grips the hilt of her knife and watches Heather finish the crown and set on the soldier’s head with a flourish. He grins at her, cheeks red and glowing brighter when she darts in to kiss him on the cheek._

_“Fools,” Violet mutters._

_A part of Allison she’d thought dead stirs in their defense. She wants to tell Violet there’s nothing foolish about it, that life is for living and without flights of fancy and romance and fun then what purpose is there to the battle?_

_And then she thinks of her mother, of the other victims of the realm, and remembers. They fight because they were hunted first, because the beasts all deserve to die, because humans cannot rest until the threat is eradicated._

_There’s another skirmish less than a month later. When Heather falls, Violet barks out a laugh and slides her sword deep into the belly of a waiting wolf._

_“I told you, Ser Allison!” she cries, shoving the body from her blade and removing the creature’s head._

_Allison dives back into battle with a yell._

__.__

Allison noted the absence in an abstract sense; something was missing and therefore something was wrong, but she wasn’t even sure what the missing thing was. She tried to figure it out and it wasn’t until she heard a rustle and a gasp at her side that she realized:

There was no leak.

“I think she may be waking up.”

The voice was unfamiliar, light and buoyed by what might have been excitement. Allison found that odd but couldn’t remember why.

“Well, I wish she’d hurry up,” another voice muttered, sounding decidedly unimpressed.

The first voice tutted in response and then there was a smooth, warm hand on Allison’s forehead. The touch was gentle and Allison’s body tried to arch up into it, starved for a little tenderness.

“No, absolutely not,” the second voice barked.

The touch was gone in an instant and Allison sagged back against the bed.

“Malia! She didn’t mean anything by it!”

“I don’t care. She can seek comfort from someone else. Someone who isn’t my mate.”

There was a sigh and then another hand, cooler this time, patted Allison’s cheek.

“Kira says you’re awake so open your eyes.”

“ _Malia_.”

“What?”

While the two girls bickered none-too-quietly over propriety (a concept this Malia apparently couldn’t understand), Allison forced her eyes open. The room was bright and it took Allison several seconds of blinking before she recognized the hazy shape of a large window spilling sunlight across the room. Lines of it caressed Allison’s bare arms and its warmth was a rousing balm that helped ease away some of her brain’s fuzziness.

It had been too long since she’d seen or felt the sun. Her eyes were wet, now, for a reason unrelated to their sensitivity but she refused to cry.

Instead she catalogued the rest of her surroundings. She was on a bed, the mattress soft beneath her back and a canopy stretched high above her. The room she was in was large and simply but beautifully decorated. There were more windows off to the left and a balcony that overlooked what Allison assumed to be a garden. Beyond that the forest extended out for miles.

Allison’s feet itched with the need to run but she knew she wouldn’t make it far. All of her limbs felt heavy and weak. Even her throat, when she tried to speak, was rusty from disuse.

“Where-” she started, and then trailed off into a series of coughs.

Both Kira and Malia sprang into action, one darting out into the hall and the other easing Allison up and setting a goblet to her lips.

The touch of water on her tongue was delicious and Allison might’ve gulped it all down if it hadn’t been taken from her.

“Slowly, idiot,” came the command, and Allison immediately knew she was being tended to by the uncouth and impatient Malia.

“I know,” Allison said, even though they both knew she’d been two seconds away from guzzling the whole goblet. “I’ve already nearly died of starvation and lack of water once before.”

Malia’s eyes flashed bright blue and her hand on the back of Allison’s head gentled.

“I know,” she said.

Together, they managed to get Allison through a goblet and a half of water before there were footsteps outside the room.

The girl who burst in first was dark-haired and slender and dressed more finely than Malia, in a gown compared to simple breeches and tunic. She beamed when she saw Malia and Allison. In response, Malia flushed and glowered at her.

“Well, I wasn’t going to let her choke,” she muttered.

“You’re such a darling,” the other girl said and Allison recognized her as Kira.

“Am not,” Malia huffed.

Kira was undeterred and darted in to press a kiss to Malia’s cheek. Then she directed a sunny smile at Allison.

“You had us worried,” she said. “We thought we’d lost you.”

“And we need you alive,” Malia added.

Kira nudged her. Malia looked unrepentant.

“For what?” Allison asked, and now that she’d had water and felt a bit stronger, all of her questions tumbled out into the open. “Where am I? What happened? Who got me out of the dungeon? The war, what-”

“Stop, please.”

Allison looked up at the doorway and froze.

Derek Hale hovered just past the threshold looking some odd combination of unsure and determined. Allison finally shook away her shock and opened her mouth. Derek held up a hand and shook his head.

“I’ll explain everything but you should eat something first.”

“That can wait,” Allison insisted just as her stomach growled loudly.

Kira giggled behind one hand and Malia smirked at her. Allison sighed and fell back against the pillows.

“Fine.”

They had to help her sit up and Kira fed Allison from a bowl of broth until Malia started growling and took over. Derek, meanwhile, paced the room over and over looking both troubled and more at ease than she’d ever seen him.

“Have you always been such a walking contradiction?” Allison finally asked, annoyed with both his presence and his refusal to speak with her until her bowl was empty.

Derek turned finally and the rueful smile he flashed transformed his face completely.

“Probably,” he said.

“My questions,” Allison said, nodding at her empty bowl.

Derek gave a quick nod and shared looks with Kira and Malia. They left, Kira with encouraging smiles for both of them and Malia with a warning glare for Allison and a light touch on the wrist for Derek.

He sat in the chair at her bedside and took a breath before starting.

“You almost died,” Derek said.

Allison rolled her eyes, propriety be damned. “I’m aware.”

“You don’t understand,” Derek said. “That was never supposed to happen. Even before-” He cut himself off with a shake of his head. “My uncle had a plan. He would use you against your grandfather, bring the Argents to their knees and make the rest of the realm follow.”

“But?”

Derek looked away. “He never got the chance. He’s dead, Allison. The war’s all but over.”

There was something he wasn’t telling her, some detail he’d omitted, but Allison couldn’t bring herself to care. All the breath rushed out of her in a whoosh and left her dizzy with something shaped vaguely like relief and even more like regret.

“My family?” she asked.

Derek hesitated again. “It was . . . ugly at the end. Bloody. Your father’s alive but the others didn’t make it.”

The news was so heavy it sat right on Allison’s chest and she struggled to breathe around it. Her father alive but Aunt Kate and Grandfather gone just like Mother. It wasn’t fair. None of it.

“Allison,” Derek said, trying to grab her attention. She glared up at him through a film of tears. “There’s something else. There were rumors years ago about the treaty-”

“No,” Allison cut in. “No, those were  _lies_.”

“So your family said,” Derek shot back, ignoring the tears Allison couldn’t hold back. “But it was all true. One of  _your_  kind uncovered the treaty. I’ve seen it, signed by your grandfather and my mother’s proxy.”

“And?  _Your_  kind broke the treaty when you  _murdered my mother_.”

“They were ambushed!” Derek’s voice never raised to a yell but the vehemence in it shook Allison right to her core.

She stared up at him, at the high spots of color on his cheeks, and realized it was the truth. She wanted to say it was simply his truth; that somewhere someone had convinced this poor creature of a lie that had been disproven over and over again in the past.

But something about it resonated within her even as she shook her head.

“Your grandfather attacked first,” Derek insisted, “Killing Deucalion and our emissary. They would have killed the others, too, if Kali hadn’t used your mother to escape.”

“But they killed her,” Allison said, and she hated how small her voice was.

Derek opened his mouth and then closed it. Finally he rose smoothly to his feet.

“As I said, it got ugly at the end. Things came to light including the treaty. Your family broke it but your father’s an honorable man. He was offered a choice – end the war on the treaty’s terms or continue the needless bloodshed. He chose peace.”

“Then why am I here speaking with you and not home with him?”

This time Derek met her eyes, his own expression unusually soft, as if he didn’t want to say anything at all and could apologize for it with a look.

“Terms of the treaty. The Argent heir is to be mated to the lycan Alpha in a display of unity and harmony between our people.”

“You’re lying,” she said, but it was a reflex and nothing more.

“I am sorry,” he said. “You should have had a choice, too.”

The words struck a chord and Allison remembered that she had one last question.

“Stiles? What of him?”

Derek offered her a small smile.

“Alive, last I heard.”

And that, at least, was something.

_._

_“Will I ever be married?”_

_Mother’s in a good mood and has let Allison sit in her chambers while she gets ready for the night’s ball. Her maid flits about, adjusting her sapphire blue gown even though Allison thinks Mother looks beautiful and perfect always._

_“Someday,” Mother says, finally shooing the maid away and fixing the dress herself. “It’s your duty.”_

_Allison nods. She knows a lot about duty already._

_“But first I’ll fight?”_

_Mother smiles, pleased that Allison remembers her responsibilities in order._

_“First you’ll fight.”_

_Allison beams and falls back on the bed, arms spread wide. She stares up at the gauzy canopy of her parents’ bed and imagines being grown someday._

_“I’ll be a fearsome warrior,” she declares. “They’ll sing songs about me.”_

_“Oh?”_

_“Yes! And then when the war is over I’ll marry someone handsome and brilliant and_ wonderful _and we’ll have the grandest parties and dance all night just like in the stories.”_

_“Sounds lovely,” Mother says._

_Allison can hear the smile in her voice and it makes her stomach feel warm and full._

_“It will be. Won’t it?”_

_She sits up and Mother walks over. She leans in close and fixes Allison’s hair, tucking stray strands behind Allison’s ears and making sure her braid lies flat against her back. And then she cups Allison’s face in her hands and presses a kiss to her forehead._

_“We won’t let it be anything else,” she promises._

_._

It wasn’t that strange an idea when Allison forced herself to think about it. Marrying for love wasn’t something that happened often and Allison had long ago given up the childhood fantasy of choosing her own husband. Her parents’ marriage had been arranged as had her grandparents’ and as would hers. Aunt Kate had been betrothed, too, but he’d died in the war before they had even met.

“You’re lucky,” she used to say when she was at the castle, a smirk hovering around her mouth. “Your parents actually have your interests in mind.”

Then she would always raise her eyebrows at Father and ignore Mother’s glares and Allison would stay quiet.

It was true that her parents had been waiting for the most advantageous match. At least that was what Allison had thought but maybe something like this had been the plan all along. Surely they never would have seen it through, wedding her to the enemy, but Allison had to admit it was a strong lure.

So an arranged marriage was nothing less than Allison had anticipated but not like this. Not only was she to wed a  _beast_ , they were both alphas. That just was not done. How would they possibly come to agreements on anything? Allison was hardly going to act submissive to anyone, let alone a stranger. Would he hurt her when she didn’t acquiesce to his demands? Use claws and fangs to make her fall in line? And what of her wifely duties?

Allison couldn’t even bear the thought of their marriage bed or the prospect of bearing his children. Would they be human? Animal? Could her body even survive birthing lycan pups?

“You’ve a strange look on your face,” Malia said, cutting through Allison’s thoughts and jarring her back to the present.

Both Malia and Kira had been Allison’s constant companions over the last few days, helping nurse her back to strength. Allison was hardly in the mood to talk to either of them or anyone but that didn’t deter either of them from talking at her.

Malia in particular seemed to take great pleasure in ignoring Allison’s silence and rolling right over her unspoken requests to be left alone.

“You’re thinking about sex,” she said. “I can tell. Your nose always scrunches and your scent goes funny when you do.”

“Excuse you!” Allison said, less because she was actually offended and more because she was embarrassed. “You can’t possible know anything of the sort.”

Malia grinned. “I didn’t but now I do. You humans are all so squeamish.”

She pushed up from her favorite chair and flopped onto Allison’s bed. Allison tried to keep as much distance between them as possible, but Malia had a gift for eliminating empty space. Eventually, Allison resigned herself to having Malia’s head propped up next to her hips and sagged back against her mountain of pillows.

“Fine. Perhaps I was.”

“Are you a virgin?” Malia asked, head tilted to the side like a curious dog. “Only all the songs seem to think you are but  _I_  think a woman like you wouldn’t care to resist temptation.”

Allison blinked.

“There are songs?”

“Mm, bloody ones. Saint Allison, Slayer of Wolves and Defender of Mankind. That’s what they call you.”

“That sounds a bit dramatic,” Allison said.

“But not untrue,” Malia pointed out. “I met you in battle once. My first time out and you nearly gutted me like a pig.”

 “I don’t remember you.”

“Of course you don’t. I’m sure we all look the same to someone like you.”

An awkward silence fell. Allison wasn’t sure what Malia was playing at or what her opinion of Allison was. If she knew what Allison had done – if they all did – she couldn’t imagine she was very well-liked. And yet Malia simply stared at her, nothing of judgment in her gaze but, Allison noted, nothing of forgiveness, either.

“You hate us, don’t you?” Malia finally asked.

Allison looked away.

“I thought I did,” she admitted. “I thought you murdered my mother in cold blood.”

“Even before that,” Malia said, sliding off the bed. “You’re an Argent and Argents hate our kind.”

Allison wasn’t sure why she suddenly felt so uncomfortable but she was. She didn’t like what that implied, that this whole time Allison’s opinions hadn’t been her own, that her life hadn’t been her own. It was true, deep down she knew that, but that didn’t mean she hated it any less.

“I’m not a virgin,” she finally said to change the subject.

“I don’t actually care,” Malia said. “But the Alpha might.”

She flashed Allison a wolfish smile and disappeared through the door. Allison glared after her and tried not to dwell too much on anything the lycan had to say.

It was a futile attempt.

_._

_Lydia is Allison’s first kiss._

_“I want to know what I’m doing,” Allison says, “In case it happens tonight.”_

_It’s her sixteenth birthday and there’s been lull enough in the war that Father and Aunt Kate are home for the occasion. They’d missed her Presenting three years prior so this is a most special occasion indeed with a ball planned and several prospective matches in attendance. Allison has plans to dance with as many interested partners as she can and rather hopes someone handsome might steal a kiss._

_“It’s not that difficult,” Lydia huffs._

_“You haven’t done it either!” Allison reminds her._

_Lydia flushes and sweeps her long hair over her shoulder._

_“I’m a whole year younger. It’s not strange that I haven’t.”_

_Allison rolls her eyes and then pushes her lips out into a pout._

_“Please, Lydia? I’ll never tell another soul.”_

_Lydia sighs and says, “I don’t care about that. But shouldn’t this be with someone special? Someone you’re especially fond of?”_

_“I’m fond of you,” Allison says even though they both know that’s not what she meant._

_Lydia studies her closely and finally tilts up her chin and closes her eyes. Allison stares down at her, suddenly awash with nerves. Lydia raises her eyebrows._

_“Well?”_

_“Sorry,” Allison murmurs._

_And then she leans in close and bends down, already taller than Lydia and still growing. It feels odd to keep her eyes open but even stranger to close them so Allison watches as she presses their lips together. Lydia’s lashes flutter and Allison’s almost more distracted by the movement than she is by the touch of plush, smooth skin at her mouth._

_They stand in a kiss for a second longer before Lydia pulls away, eyebrows scrunched up a little and eyes still shut._

_“That’s all?” she asks._

_And Allison certainly will_ not _let that be all._

_“I’m sure it gets better,” she decides and swoops in, eyes closed this time._

_Their second kiss is much better and they pull apart._

_“Not so difficult at all,” Lydia says haughtily, but she ducks her head a second later, flushed and smiling._

_._

“The Alpha would like to meet you before the ceremony,” Derek said.

It was late morning on Allison’s first day out of bed. Derek had been the one to offer a tour of the castle grounds. Kira had explained days ago that it was called Wolf’s Keep after the tall, stone tower that had offered sanctuary to lycans for generations.

“It’s where the remaining Hales fled after the fire,” she’d said. “At least until Peter called them back to battle.”

The fire, Allison knew, had laid waste to nearly the entire Hale lineage – a proud line of lycans, strong in number, body, and spirit and killed in an act of revenge. At the time, when word first reached Allison’s garrison, she’d been glad of the news. It would, they all thought, turn the tides of war in their favor. And it had for a time. It had also bolstered the lycans, given them something other than survival to fight for.

Allison still wondered what had gone on during those last months after she’d been captured. Had that been enough or had it been something else? Perhaps the flames of war had finally just run their course. Either way, all of that was over and this was to be her home now.

It was pretty enough, she supposed. The castle wasn’t as grand as the one she’d grown up in but it was a sight larger – squat and more roughly hewn but covering a good deal more ground. The surrounding dirt paths were mostly unkempt as was the foliage that grew in vibrant abundance. Ivy climbed the walls and small, bright flowers lined the walkways, peppering long blades of grass.

It looked as if the gardens had simply grown wild if, Allison mused, they’d ever been proper gardens at all. Most beasts were birthed in forests, lived in forests, and died in the same. Perhaps this collision of nature and the feats of man was more about comfort and less about neglect.

She wasn’t sure she liked it. She also wasn’t sure she hated it.

“Generous of him,” Allison said in a flat voice.

Derek made a small, irritated sound.

“He is not my uncle,” he insisted. “He’s a good man. A good wolf. And he’ll be a good husband.”

“Forgive me if I remain unconvinced,” Allison shot back.

“Then let him convince you.”

She didn’t answer. If he wanted to see her he’d had plenty of opportunities. A part of her considered that he’d been respecting her boundaries and probably doing whatever duties were required of Alphas who’d come new and unexpectedly into their powers.

But logic wasn’t something she had the time for. In her mind he was still a beast, inhuman and not to be trusted. Perhaps Derek, Malia, and Kira had proven that not every shapeshifter was a monster but they were an omega and a pair of betas. That hardly told Allison what to expect from an alpha let alone  _the_  Alpha.

“If he insists,” Allison finally said.

“He won’t,” Derek told her. “He’ll continue to ask but he won’t force your hand.”

“We’ll see.”

Derek huffed out a breath, clearly not happy, but didn’t press the issue. Instead he led the way back inside.

They ended the tour in a vast library. Allison had to crane her head back to see the topmost shelves and she thought one could fit a small army in the space. Sunlight flooded it, made even the stone floors look warm.

That was one thing she’d noticed about this place – plenty of windows. After all that time in the dungeon, it was a relief to be able to feel the sun and see the sky whenever she wanted. It gave the illusion of freedom, one Allison appreciated even if duty kept her trapped within the castle walls.

“Lydia would love this place,” she said, mostly to herself.

“Oh, she made herself right at home here,” Derek agreed with a rueful smile.

Allison whirled on him.

“When was she here? Why haven’t I seen her? Where is she now?”

Derek held up his hands. “She left before you woke. She’s the one who discovered the treaty. She and your father and a pair from our pack have gone to the King, to share the news with him. Once he acknowledges the treaty as valid and gives it his seal-”

“The peace will be finalized,” Allison finished.

Derek nodded.

“She spent much of her time in that corner there,” he said, pointing at a sunlit stretch of shelves and the short, wide chair facing them. “She said she’d like to write a more elaborate record of the war someday. Or have on commissioned. In the meantime, she copied down what she remembered and the terms of the treaty. I thought you might like to read it.”

Allison swallowed hard and then turned to study Derek closely.

In the dungeons, he’d been a shadow of a creature, often fanged and furred. But he’d always looked lonely and reeked of desperation. He’d been almost gaunt for one of his kind. Quiet and gruff. Exactly as she’d always imagined a beast to be and yet nothing like it at all.

He’d changed since then, looking healthier and happier and lighter, like whatever had weighed him down was gone from him, now.

“Why?” Allison asked, because she thought he might actually answer. “Why don’t you hate me?”

Derek raised his eyebrow at her and she fought the urge to blush. It may have been forward of her, but it wasn’t as if the circumstances of their relationship were conventional.

“Someone taught me a better way,” he finally answered.

He turned to leave her and paused at the door.

“Stiles was right about you,” he finally said. “You’re nothing like any of us thought.”

And then he was gone.

_._

_Dearest Allison,_

_If you’re reading this that must mean you’re alive and the first thing I’d like to tell you is that I hate you desperately for leaving me and scaring me and nearly dying on me. You’re never allowed to do any such thing every again or else I’ll never forgive you._

_The second thing I’d like to tell you is that I love you and I wish I could have stayed at your side until you woke. Unfortunately, you’ve taken your own time about it and the Kingdoms are in a fragile state just now. Word has been slow getting around and the skirmishes haven’t all ended. The Alpha will send word to the lycans but he and your father thought it wise to send an envoy to the King (it is entirely possible that this was actually my own idea but of course I let them think they came up with it themselves)._

_As you’re awake, I can assume Derek made good on his promise to me and told you about the treaty and its provisions. I know you. I know you’re probably planning your escape now because this isn’t the life you always wanted. I also know you’d never risk the peace of the Kingdoms for your own desires and will grit your teeth and get through this as you always have, with strength and grace._

_It’s true that your grandfather agreed to wed you and the Alpha. It’s also true that it was no small piece of hypocrisy on his part considering what we all know he thought of lycans. What we all have thought of them._

_You should know that the Alpha is on your side. He tried to change the treaty so that you might have freedom to choose your own husband. Your father convinced him this is best, that it will solidify peace and prove to the realm that humans and lycans can coexist in harmony. Sadly, my head sees the logic and finds it sound. My heart is another matter._

_Be angry. You’ve every right. I, myself, am furious on your behalf. But I am also hopeful. It’s difficult not to be with the war at its end._

_I thought I’d lost you and now that I have you back there’s not a force in the Kingdoms that can steal away that happiness. Not even this._

_I hope that you can forgive us. I hope that you can be happy. And I hope with all my heart that you won’t be a fool and injure yourself on the training grounds before you’ve fully recovered (I know you all too well, dearest, and I’ve made Derek promise to keep an eye on you)._

_I’ll return soon but until I do know that I am, with all my heart and soul,_

_Truly yours,_

_Lydia Martin_

_._

Allison had never been as fond of libraries as Lydia. But as Lydia was technically a servant and not allowed to come and go in the castle as she pleased, it had fallen to Allison to spend every waking hour among the Argents’ book collection so that her friend could read until her heart was content.

Still, as Allison was yet recovering from her time in the dungeon – and because she silently promised Lydia that she would be diligent in said recovery – Allison found herself returning there when restlessness got the better of her.

The first day, after discovering Lydia’s, she’d spent her time combing over the peace treaty and been dismayed at the realization that anyone who knew her grandfather must’ve been aware it was a trap. It granted the lycans too much, was much too generous, to ever come honestly from the same man who would have seen them all dead. It was true, all of it, but Allison had known that even if she’d fought hard against believing.

Malia had come to fetch her eventually and Allison left with a heavy heart and a resolution to avoid that room. And yet she found herself back there the next day. It took her the better part of an hour to remember where the library was and when she pushed open the door she discovered the room was already occupied.

“Oh!” she said. “Hello.”

Her voice seemed to startle the man she’d spotted high up on a ladder and she watched in horror as he lost his balance and fell. She ran forward, already picturing broken limbs and blood, but with a twist in midair the man landed on his feet. And then he caught the book that had tumbled after him like an afterthought.

Allison stopped in her tracks and stared. She knew it was impolite but she couldn’t help it. She’d seen lycans in action of course, shifted and running and leaping and committing acts of impossible strength and agility. She’d just never seen anything quite so elegant before. There were no screams in the distance, no bloodshed in the periphery. Just the quiet of the library and the self-conscious slouch of the stranger’s shoulders as he turned to face her.

“Sorry,” Allison heard herself say, the words soft even to her own ears. “I didn’t meant to-”

“Almost kill me?” the man asked with a crooked smile.

The words didn’t register because Allison was too busy thinking to herself that he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. His features were almost boyish but instead of an immaturity to them, there was just charm. His cheeks had dimples and suddenly Allison understood why others had found her own so enchanting.

His jaw was a bit crooked and Allison liked that because she’d seen countless good-looking men before, members of nobility with perfect noses and jawlines and hair. This was someone with character, a personality. And, of course, a beautiful face.

“I apologize,” he said, and she was enamored of his voice, too, the way it was a little shy and self-deprecating and still bold all at once. “That wasn’t a very good joke.”

“No,” Allison hurried to say. “It was.”

Then she thought back and actually recalled his words.

“Well,” she amended. “Perhaps not.”

He smiled at her, dark eyes fixed firmly on her own. Something in that gaze made her shiver in an embarrassingly delightful way.

“Are you cold?” he immediately asked, darting forward and stopping just short of touching her.

She could feel the heat of his palms across a distance of inches and wondered at her desire for him to close that gap. It had been a long time since anyone had touched her. Well, anyone who wasn’t Kira or Malia, anyway.

_Or Stiles_ , her brain helpfully reminded her, and this time she shivered for another reason.

“I could fetch you a cloak. Or a blanket. Or-”

“I’m all right,” Allison jumped in to assure him.

She smiled at him to punctuate the sentence and felt warmth unfurl in her belly at the way his own face seemed to light up with a grin of his own.

“I’m sorry I interrupted,” she said. “And almost broke your neck.”

“I’m fair hard to harm,” he said drily.

“I noticed.” She paused and then said, “I’m Allison.”

His eyes widened at that, nostrils flaring wide and a strange look coming over his face before he took a step back.

“Shit,” he muttered and then a blush suffused his golden-brown skin and he ducked his head. “I’m sorry. That was improper and-”

“I’m a soldier,” Allison told him. “Or I was. I’ve heard worse. I’ve said worse.”

He peeked up at her through his lashes and Allison’s heart thudded painfully against her ribs. He glanced down at her chest, so quick she thought she might’ve imagined it, and then darted for the door.

“I must go,” he said as he went. “But it was lovely to meet you.”

Allison hesitated until he was nearly gone and then blurted out, “I don’t know your name.”

He paused just past the threshold and turned. For a moment she thought he might vanish without answer.

“Scott,” he finally said.

Allison smiled and said, “It was lovely to meet you, too.”

 He bit his lip, looked conflicted, and then he was gone and Allison was left to puzzle over what had just happened.

_._

_Allison has been training with many of the same boys and girls for most of her life. They were all pages together and now they’re squires, though most of their knights are already at war and they won’t join them in battle for a few more years, yet._

_Jackson is her closest friend despite his often petulant attitude and more-than-occasional arrogance. This is the only reason Allison doesn’t gut him when Boyd joins their ranks and Jackson won’t leave the matter be._

_“We all know why he’s here,” Jackson says that first morning._

_They’re to start with archery and Allison’s been excited since breakfast. She’s not usually given to excessive pride, but she’d like to impress Boyd with her skills. For reasons that are none of Jackson’s business no matter what he thinks._

_“Shut it,” Allison tells him as they step onto the archery range._

_It’s the best in the Twin Kingdoms, or so Mother likes to boast. The best_ for _the best, and Allison’s usually humiliated by the presumption. Today she preens to think it’s true._

_“He’s an omega. You danced all night at your name-day ball. You’re going to marry him.”_

_Jackson says it as if it’s on a level with latrine duty. He’s often so immature she can’t remember_ why _she puts up with him at all._

_“We don’t know that yet. Our parents thought we might like to get to know one another, that’s all.”_

_“I’m sure the kisses he stole have nothing to do with it, either.”_

_Allison whirls around and punches Jackson right across his smug face. It hurts her knuckles a bit – nothing she wasn’t expecting – but he falls flat on his backside and that’s the most important part._

_“Fate’s_ sake _, Allison! What the hell was that for?”_

_“For making insinuations that would get you_ flogged _if my father happened by,” she tells him._

_Jackson cradles his cheek and glares up at her._

_“Scared of what he might think if he knows the truth about you?” he asks meanly._

_Allison narrows her eyes and leans down until their faces are a hairsbreadth apart._

_“I think_ you _should be scared of what I might do if you keep acting like a prick. Boyd’s a gentleman. He would never do anything I didn’t expressly ask for. And if you’re going to judge me for it, just remember which of us is the better shot and which of us my father will believe if I tell him it was just an accident.”_

_It’s mostly bluff, but Jackson also knows Allison well-enough to be aware of her ability to follow through. It’s enough. He keeps his mouth shut even when Ser Finstock walks by and barks, “I don’t know what you did to land you on your ass, Jackson, but I’m inclined to believe you deserved it.”_

_Allison smirks at him and lines up with the rest of the squires. She keeps her eyes peeled for Boyd and beams when he steps onto the range and selects his own bow and arrow. He catches her eye and smiles back._

_For a moment, she’s swept away on the memory of his hand at her waist, his laughter at her good jokes and the flat look on his face at her bad ones. And oh, how she’d wanted him to kiss her at the end of the night only to lose her nerve._

_She’ll have to be cunning if she wants to get him alone now but she’s determined to find away._

_Finstock shouts and Allison jerks herself back to the present. He gives her an assessing look but doesn’t call her on her absent-mindedness for which she’s grateful. If Jackson were to tease her about_ that _she wouldn’t have much room to stop him because everyone would have noticed._

_It’s a brisk day, the air cool, no wind. The conditions are excellent and Allison’s eager to practice._

_On Finstock’s count, she slips an arrow from the quiver at her belt, nocks the arrow, raises the bow, and draws back the string. It takes a heartbeat to aim and then she releases the string. The arrow sings through the air and hits the target dead-on but Allison ignores that small victory for now and reaches for another arrow._

_The motions are second-nature to her from nock to release and she feels grounded and present and_ happy _as she lets arrow after arrow fly._

_She empties her quiver and waits while the others finish. Boyd’s one of the last – slow and methodical in his approach. When they’re done, they race out to collect their arrows._

_Someone whistles off to her left and Allison glances over to see Boyd staring at her arrows, all nestled tightly in the center of the target._

_“Impressive,” he says._

_“How did you do?” she asks._

_He waves at his target and Allison gapes. Only one arrow landed outside of the center. The rest, much like Allison’s own, hit dead-on._

_“Not bad,” he answers and Allison thinks she falls a little bit in love._

_“Not bad, indeed.”_

_._

Despite being on her feet for nearly a week, Derek still refused to let Allison anywhere near the training grounds. She’d tried to find other places in the castle to whittle away her time, but she wasn’t comfortable intruding on anyone’s time and didn’t know anyone in the castle other than Derek, Kira, and Malia anyway.

Well. And Scott.

But Scott was practically a ghost.

Unlike the others who paid Allison visits and took meals with her in her rooms, Scott was never around. She thought perhaps he worked in the kitchens or maybe he lived in the barracks and not the castle proper. Then again, that would mean the Alpha had different rules for who could come and go and where and Allison wasn’t sure what to think about that.

Either way, she haunted the halls in the hopes he might turn up again and he never did.

It was silly to be so obsessed with a stranger. It happened, of course. It was even expected. But only with omegas and Scott definitely wasn’t one. He was likely a beta and Allison resolved to pay more attention to senses other than sight the next time she saw him to find out for sure.

If she ever saw him again.

He was never in the library or the gardens and the one time she’d asked Derek about him, he’d frowned and muttered about how the meeting was probably a fluke.

“Scott isn’t often . . . around,” he’d said and left it at that.

Allison chided herself for being so immature about it but she couldn’t help but be curious. She also couldn’t seem to help but yearn for him in a way she recognized from once before and she didn’t like the reminder of what she’d lost and the mistakes she’d made.

She especially didn’t like when thoughts of Scott led to thoughts of Boyd and then  _those_  led to thoughts of Stiles.

It was a relief that she didn’t think of Stiles incessantly. It meant that the bond she’d felt forming hadn’t taken hold. Pre-bonds weren’t ideal or encouraged, but they were manageable. Often, an omega being bartered off from alpha to alpha could  _only_  form pre-bonds out of necessity. They were intense when the alpha and omega were in proximity to each other, but faded quickly with distance.

That was what had happened between them, Allison was sure. Being thrown together as they had, it was a miracle they hadn’t bonded completely but she was grateful for that piece of luck. Grateful and, truth be told, a bit bereft.

Not at the loss of the bond. Well . . . that was what she told herself. Those first days after he’d been gone had been agonizing enough, adjusting to the separation and the severance of the connection that developed between them. There was still a tiny part of her that ached and reached out for something that wasn’t there. But that was all beyond her control. Purely biological. Bonds were complicated, intimate things and she was happy to have gotten out of the dungeon without more than a fledgling, easily forgotten pre-bond.

She did still miss Stiles more than she let on even to herself. The person that he was, not the omega her body was drawn to. She wondered, sometimes, what he might say about all of this. How he might feel. Had he even thought about her once since escaping? Not that it mattered. He was alive and that was the most important thing. He’d probably run as soon as he’d been able and he wouldn’t look back. He’d find an alpha, perhaps, or just stay on the move. He’d look after himself and Allison knew she needn’t worry.

She just wished she could see him again. See for herself that he was all right.

Thinking of him stirred up a mess of emotions that Allison preferred not to deal with so she’d distract herself thinking of Scott who would remind her of Boyd and it would all circle around on itself over and over.

At least the Alpha had stopped requesting her presence. It was a nice change not to have to face Derek’s disappointment every day.

It would all be better once she could get back onto the training grounds, Allison decided. Until then, she had the library.

She entered the room with no real hope of seeing Scott again and was pleasantly surprised to see him in much the same position on the ladder. He stiffened when she walked in and she imagined he must have been able to smell her. He should have heard her, too, but he also seemed a bit easily distracted.

“What books are so interesting up there?” Allison asked in place of a greeting.

“Honestly?” Scott looked over his shoulder and then leaped to the ground.

Allison’s heart jumped to her throat even though she expected it when he landed in a crouch and straightened up, all in one piece.

“Children’s stories.”

He handed the book to Allison who flipped it open and saw colorful illustrations of princesses and dragons and winged men and women on every other page. They were beautiful.

“You have a child?” Allison asked.

Scott laughed at that and said, “No. No, they’re for Derek. He loves them but he likes to pretend he doesn’t. I leave them on his pillow.”

Allison laughed at the thought and handed the book back.

“How do you even know he reads them?”

“His mate, Braeden. She told me.”

“You must be close,” Allison said, trying to not sound too forward even though she was desperate to know more about him.

“Practically brothers,” Scott said and then looked like perhaps he’d meant to keep that to himself. “The circumstances are complicated.”

“I wouldn’t mind hearing about them,” Allison said.

Scott shook his head and inched toward the door.

“Maybe some other time. I should go, now. I have to . . .”

He trailed off and picked up his pace. The thought that he might disappear again filled Allison with dread and she called him back.

“Scott!”

He stopped but didn’t turn. Allison swallowed.

“Please stay,” she said. “We don’t have to talk but I’d like the company. Please?”

She held her breath and watched as he leaned toward the door and then turned around. There was a sad light in his eyes but his smile was warm and real and everything Allison had craved since he’d been gone.

“For a little while,” he said.

She smiled back.

“For a little while.”

_._

_“He wants me to marry him,” Lydia says._

_She’s supposed to be in the castle with Lady Mahealani but every other week she creeps down to the village ostensibly to see Allison but really, everyone knows, to spend time with Jackson. Allison’s seen Lydia sneaking into Jackson’s tent and said nothing. It’s not as if the other soldiers aren’t constantly stealing away with one another or interested villagers._

_It always makes Allison feel a pang of guilt and shame and she worries about what Jackson might be saying about her but Lydia always makes her way to Allison’s tent in the morning and acts no different than usual._

_Except for today._

_Today Lydia’s actually flustered, a sight Allison can’t remember having seen since . . . well. Not for some time._

_“Is that not a good thing?” Allison asks, genuinely curious._

_She and Jackson may not be on good terms as yet but Allison still wants Lydia to be happy. She’d thought Jackson might be Lydia’s forever love but perhaps she was wrong._

_“It is,” Lydia says, but she doesn’t sound convinced._

_“If this is still about your station and his-”_

_“That doesn’t matter to him,” Lydia says._

_“Well. Good.”_

_“But it’s not,” Lydia insists._

_Allison frowns, confused._

_“It’s not good?”_

_Lydia shakes her head and starts to pace the short length of Allison’s tent. It’s a good thing her temporary quarters are so much bigger than the average soldiers else Lydia wouldn’t have anywhere to go. As it is, the small circles she turns will probably make Allison dizzy after a while._

_“Why not?” Allison asks._

_“Because these things_ should _matter to him,” she insists. “How can I trust him to give any thought to the important things if he refuses to consider the disadvantages of marrying beneath himself?”_

_Allison blinked._

_“Lydia, you’re hardly beneath him. Well, beneath his station anyway.”_

_Lydia frowned, unamused by Allison’s attempt at bawdy humor._

_“He inherited the Whitemore title and all that comes with it. And here I am, still just a maid with nothing to bring to the union.”_

_“You’re being ridiculous,” Allison declares._

_Lydia glares at her, mouth pinching in tight like it does when she’s particularly livid, and Allison immediately feels horrible. It’s bad enough that everyone in the garrison is either terrified of her or Violet. Lydia’s the only normal, good thing Allison feels like she has left in the world._

_Allison opens her mouth to apologize but there’s something else in Lydia’s gaze, something shifty and unsure and suddenly it all makes sense._

_“You don’t love him,” she says._

_“I do!” Lydia insists. “With all my heart.”_

_“Fine, I believe you,” Allison says, because there’s nothing of a lie in Lydia’s words. “And yet you don’t want to wed him.”_

_Lydia looks away. Allison crosses the tent and takes Lydia’s hands in her own._

_“Why don’t you want to wed him, Lydia?”_

_She looks up after a moment and Allison’s surprised to see the tears in her eyes._

_“Because,” she says, “I don’t want to lose him.”_

_The words connect like a blow and Allison can do nothing but pull Lydia in and hold her close. It’s a valid fear. The beasts have been circling the village, retreating to some unknown camp deep in the forest only to attack again and again. They’re smarter now that they know what the garrison is capable of. There hasn’t been a single lycan felled in battle for nigh on a month but they’ve lost several soldiers. Good men. Men Allison and Lydia grew up knowing and caring for._

_One day, Jackson might be one of them. Allison can’t lie and say any different._

_So she pets Lydia’s hair and considers the hasty marriages she’s witnessed during the war or heard tell of through others. Lydia and Jackson could certainly have that and Lydia might even find herself with child. They could be a family. But the endless bloodshed, the constant threat of death . . . Allison can’t blame Lydia for not wanting to begin a new life under such a dismal pall._

_“There will be peace someday,” Allison says. “And you’ll have a wonderful life with a dashing husband and you’ll never have to wait on another spoiled noblewoman ever again.”_

_Lydia sniffles and leans back to smile at Allison._

_“But whatever will you do without me?” she asks._

_Allison doesn’t say that she might very well be dead herself. There’s no room for that harsh truth here between them. Instead she forces a smile of her own._

_“I’ll have a dashing husband of my own, I suppose,” she says. “And some new girl to wait on me who won’t be half as good at it.”_

_Lydia laughs and Allison feels that even though nothing has been solved, she’s at least accomplished that one thing. It’s enough._

__.__

Nearly a month at Wolf’s Keep and Allison’s life had reached an odd sort of comfortable stasis. Her looming marriage was spoken of rarely enough that she could almost pretend it wasn’t going to happen at all. Malia and Kira were constant companions and Allison thought perhaps she might even want to call them friends someday. And, of course, there was Derek looking a bit brighter every day and bringing Allison any news she might find relevant.

“We received word from Satomi,” he said one day. “All of the Great Packs have retreated and the humans are following their example.”

“What of the treaty?”

“We haven’t had word yet but if your father and Lydia made good time, we may very well be at peace by week’s end.”

It was an odd thought even though she’d had plenty of time to get used to the idea. She’d avoided thinking on it because peace was tied inextricably to the Alpha and her wedding and the prospect of a life she’d never once imagined for herself.

It was a tactic that had suited her well thus far and she wasn’t looking to change it.

“And I can join you on the training grounds when?”

Derek frowned at her and she gave him her most pitiful, innocent look. It was a weapon she didn’t use often because she hardly needed to, but she’d grown so bored of late. And, frankly, she was a bit irritated with how often she took the time to sit in the library hoping Scott might happen by. Allison didn’t wait for anyone to come to her. She didn’t  _pine_.

There was a huff and then Derek rolled his eyes and said, “Tomorrow. Join us tomorrow. You’ll work with Braeden.”

“Your mate?” Allison asked, recognizing the name immediately.

Derek narrowed his eyes at her.

“She’s my alpha but we’re only pre-bonded. Who told you about us?”

“Scott mentioned her,” Allison said, not seeing a problem with it.

Derek always seemed to get a pinched look when Scott was mentioned and now was no different. He hummed and frowned and looked generally displeased and uncomfortable, like he was waiting for Allison’s usual barrage of questions about him.

She decided to leave the topic be for now, not wanting to push her luck since he’d finally decided to let her get back to doing what she was best at.

“Well,” she said. “I’m off to the library. I’ll see you at training tomorrow.”

She flashed Derek a quick smile and he looked thoroughly surprised at seeing it. She didn’t know why. They hadn’t been enemies for some time. Maybe, she realized, they never truly had been but by their situation.

The way to the library came to Allison so easily she thought she might find it in her sleep. Because she refused to sit in a room waiting for a handsome stranger just twiddling her thumbs, Allison had been poring through the collection. The lycans had their own historical accounts and bestiaries. The more Allison read, the more she realized the Argents’ collection barely scratched the surface. And some of the details were completely wrong.

Sometimes she’d lose herself so completely she’d imagine she was back home studying with her Mother. She’d lift her head ready to say something:

“Did you know that lycans  _can_  control the shift on a full moon?” or “I’d never heard of a kitsune before meeting Kira, had you?” or “I don’t know if I think they’re monsters anymore, Mother.”

But there was never anyone there and Allison would be left with a painful knot in her stomach, one of grief and regret and the hollow, dissipating rage that had driven her so blindly for so long.

Allison was tucked into her usual chair with a slim journal that detailed the sexual practices of lycans when she realized she was being watched. She looked up and caught a flash of dark hair just outside the door.

She was off the chair and across the room in what felt like an instant, but she didn’t reach the hallway fast enough. Scott turned the corner just as she stepped outside. She considered letting him go but it had been days since they’d last spoken and she craved the contact with someone like him, someone she could choose for herself.

So she followed.

He stayed a step ahead every way but seemed to realize she was trailing him. Instead of speeding up and losing her – which would’ve been an easy feat – he slowed down. It kept him just ahead, turning this or that corner just in time for Allison to spot him.

It didn’t take long for her to recognize the Chase.

She’d read about this. It was an old custom that had fallen out of practice the more integrated into human society the lycans had become before the war tore everything apart. According to the journal, a lycan and their prospective mate would engage in a Chase out in the woods, a way of determining their compatibility before committing to a match.

The measure of that compatibility varied from wolf to wolf. Some appreciated a more leisurely, playful game. Others wanted honest competition. Still others would only commit to a partner willing to draw blood.

Allison found herself wondering what Scott wanted and considered briefly how stupid this was – she was engaged, he was still a stranger – but the thud of her heart and the quickness of her breath made her feel light and alive again and she realized she didn’t want to give that up. She’d spent so long as Allison the Soldier that she’d thought Allison the Girl long dead.

It was a relief that she wasn’t.

Allison picked up her skirts and decided to give real chase if that was what Scott wanted. At the fast pounding of her feet, he whipped his head around to see her gaining and grinned. The expression sent a jolt of  _something_  right through the core of her body and Allison felt herself smile back, the expression almost wolfish when she caught sight of her reflection in a nearby window.

It wasn’t just a game, Allison realized quickly. Scott tested her ability to keep up but more than that, he seemed to either underestimate her intelligence or want to see it in action. He’d been leading them in circles, Allison quickly realized, and that was either very silly of him or he wanted to be caught.

On their third circle of the east wing, Allison made her move. Scott disappeared around a corner and she put on a burst of speed, darting through a nearby door and running the length of the room. There was another door that opened out into a different hallway. Allison paused, strained her ears until she heard footsteps, and then swung the door open.

The collision was harder than Allison had expected, Scott knocking the breath out of her lungs when he ran into her. She sensed his hesitation, worry that he’d hurt her –  _when_  would he remember that she was a soldier and not some easily bruised peach – and she took advantage. She caught him by the arm and twisted them around until she had him pinned against the wall with a hand at his throat.

“Caught you,” she said, breathless and smiling.

But Scott didn’t grin back. His eyes were molten when they caught hers, his expression some mix of predatory and needy, and she realized exactly where her hand was. The journal had talked about this, too, as had some of the other books. The throat, even more than the belly, was a lycan’s most vulnerable spot. To bare it to another was a sign of either the utmost deference, utter surrender, or pure trust and devotion.

For someone else to touch it was a violation or a challenge. A threat.

Allison snatched her hand back.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

But Scott didn’t look violated or threatened. He looked  _hungry_  and Allison realized even in all of her girlish fumblings, no one had ever stared at her like this. She shivered, the suddenly hot itch under her skin reminding her of when Stiles scented her back in the dungeons. The action then had been so flagrant, its meaning under different circumstances so  _intimate_.

Circumstances like these, Allison thought when Scott’s nostrils flared wide.

For a moment his eyes brightened but he squeezed them shut so quickly she couldn’t ascertain their color.

“Allison,” Scott said, his voice an almost pained groan.

“Should I be sorry, Scott?” she asked, feeling suddenly bold.

When his eyes opened they were their usual color, that dark, lovely brown, and more serious than she’d seen them before.

“No,” he said after a moment.

The urge to lean forward and tuck her nose into his neck, breathe him in, was strong. Instead she inhaled deeply, wanting to know if he felt the same way she did. She was surprised that there was no scent to track but it wasn’t uncommon for people to take measures to hide from the prying noses of others. It made sense for lycans to do the same.

It only meant she’d have to rely on other senses to figure him out, a challenge she was more than happy to meet.

Allison stepped closer, putting their bodies almost flush. She rested her hands on the wall beside Scott’s head, a move Boyd had done to her once and she could still remember the hot, desperate way it had made her feel to be caged in even as an alpha. Maybe especially then.

If the way Scott’s body suddenly stuttered forward was any indication, it worked for him, too.

“How should I feel, then?” she asked.

The words tumbled out without her permission. They were meant to tease but there was a heavier weight to them that revealed something she’d barely acknowledged to herself. They’d only met a short time ago, had barely spoken since, and yet he was all she could think about. Even knowing that she was betrothed to someone else, even without any idea of who he really was or what he was like, she wanted him.

The realization threatened to knock her back.

_She wanted him_.

“I don’t know,” Scott finally said. His voice was low, cracked a little over the last word. She couldn’t stop the shiver that trembled up her spine.

“What do  _you_  feel?”

Silence settled between them. Scott stared at her and she thought she could see a reflection of her own desires in his eyes. She waited, breathless, for him to say it. To say anything.

Instead he slipped under her arms and put a respectable amount of distance between them.

“You’re to be married,” he said.

 “I don’t know him. I’ve never seen his face or heard his voice. I don’t even know his name.”

“And? You would have me behind his back? Betray his trust?”

Allison wanted to insist there was no trust between them. She wanted to say that she would gladly do it if Scott would have her, that the thought of a life with a stranger made her desperate for the freedom to run and never look back.

But there was the treaty to consider. Family and duty. Maybe the Argents weren’t exactly what Allison had thought, but she loved them still. To dishonor them, to take a vow only to break it, wasn’t the person they’d raised Allison to be. Perhaps any one of them might have done the same, but she could be different. Better.

All of the electric energy that had hummed in her body left in a heartbeat. Allison sagged but kept her chin lifted, eyes forward.

“No,” she said. “I wouldn’t do that. Even to a stranger. But you tempt me.”

Scott’s mouth twisted with something guilt. She wondered, yet again, who he was and wished she could know him intimately and possibly forever. The expression quickly melted away, replaced by a small grin.

“ _I_  tempt  _you_?” he repeated. “You underestimate yourself.”

“Hardly,” Allison said with a smirk. “But it’s still flattering to know you think so highly of me.”

“I think of you often,” Scott admitted.

He shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous gesture Allison always smiled to see.

“I apologize,” he said. “That was improper to say.”

 “I liked hearing it.” She paused and considered her next words carefully because there was a chance that if she didn’t, this would be the last time they saw each other. “Do you think . . . could we try being friends? I’m rather lacking in those here.”

Scott swallowed hard and was quiet for so long that Allison felt uncomfortable and desperate to flee. Finally he gave a nod.

“Perhaps someday,” he said. “Now I really must go.”

He hesitated for a brief moment and then took off, too quick for her to follow.

Allison pressed a hand to her heart and tried not to feel as if she’d lost something important.

_._

_The war has gone on long enough that there are predictable lulls that mimic peacetime. The lycans retreat on their holy days – such as they are – and the humans do the same. These days only ever line up during the winter and so there have always been a handful of days before the coming of the new year when the fighting all but stops._

_Not every soldier gets to come home, Allison knows, and she’s to be respectful of that. It’s unfair that some families are incomplete for the celebration of The Advent and Allison always feels sad for those men and women forced to guard the Kingdoms against any stray beasts._

_But she feels the approach of the holiday like the static of an incoming storm, bright and alive with possibility. Her whole family will be together for one of the few times during the year – Father and Mother and Grandfather and Aunt Kate, all in the castle. It’s Allison’s favorite time of year for exactly that reason._

_And, perhaps, because of the customary gifts given on Advent’s Eve._

_“I’m sure I’ll get a new dress,” Allison tells her new maid that night._

_Lydia and her mother are new additions to the staff. Technically as a page herself, Allison doesn’t need a maid. But she’s more than just a soldier-to-be. She’s also the future lady of the castle. It means she sleeps and dines and studies apart from the other pages more often than not. It also means that Lydia – as the youngest girl on the staff – is supposed to wait on her._

_Allison’s not so sure how she feels about that. Her thirteenth name day is rapidly approaching, she’ll be a squire not long after, and she’ll Present soon, too. She’s more than capable of looking after herself._

_It would be preferable to have Lydia as a friend, but she’s resisted all attempts Allison’s made at being nice so far._

_“What do you think you might get?” Allison asks._

_Like so many times before, Lydia says nothing. She simply holds out Allison’s sleeping gown and waits, eyes averted, for Allison to step into it. Allison hesitates and then snatches the gown away and pulls it over her head._

_Lydia finally looks at her, hot spots of color on her cheeks._

_“What are you doing? That’s my job!”_

_“It’s not as if I_ need _the help,” Allison says. “They’re only clothes and all I’ll be doing is sleeping in them.”_

_Lydia stares, eyes wide and glowing with looks like fury. Well, good. That’s better than her pretending she hasn’t got a voice or a mind of her own all the time._

_“That doesn’t matter._ I’m _the maid,_ you’re _the lady. Or are you too stupid to understand how this works?”_

_“I’m not stupid!” Allison yells back. “But I don’t need a maid!”_

_Lydia stands there, trembling a little in her anger, and Allison feels a bit bad for stirring her up so._

_“But I’m yours,” Lydia finally says. “If you don’t want me-” She cuts herself off and makes a small, sad noise but doesn’t cry. Instead she tries again. “If you don’t want me, what use am I here? And if I have no use, why would your mother keep me or my mother? She wouldn’t! And we need this job. So I’ll be your maid and you’ll be my lady or else!”_

_“Or else what?” Allison asks._

_Lydia just glowers at her. Allison sighs but those were the most words the girl had said in nearly a fortnight. So Allison simply turns and offers her back as penance. There’s a moment of hesitation and then Lydia steps in and combs her fingers through Allison’s hair._

_“D’you think . . .” Allison trails off._

_“What?” Lydia snaps, but there’s a thread of curiosity to her voice, too._

_“I’d rather have a friend than a maid, that’s all.”_

_There’s a beat and then, “Well. We’ll see.”_

_Allison smiles to herself and closes her eyes as Lydia carefully braids her hair._

_“I had a whole wardrobe for my Advent dresses before everything,” Lydia says. “We sold them all. I think this year I’d rather have a book.”_

_The next day, Allison takes her to the library._

_“It’s a bit early,” she says, “But I thought you might like it.”_

_It’s the first time Allison ever sees Lydia’s real smile. It lights up the whole room like sunshine._

_._

Being out on the training grounds was a relief. It felt more like coming home than anything else had in a long time. The fact that there was no longer a war to prepare for, that this was all just a matter of staying in fighting shape for the sake of it, would probably take some adjusting to. Surprisingly enough, Allison found it freeing.

The training grounds were packed that first day. Allison had borrowed breeches and a tunic from Malia – she’d been living in borrowed clothes, actually, and would have to see about sending for her own things or, perhaps, starting entirely anew – tied her hair back, and walked the path feeling invigorated and excited but stopped short when she was greeted with what looked like over a dozen curious stares.

It was difficult to tell who was human and who was a lycan when no one was shifted, but Allison spotted Malia, Kira, and Derek so she assumed they all trained together. A month ago she’d have wondered how the wolves could possibly keep from ripping the humans to shreds. Now she simply wondered how the humans could possibly keep pace.

“You must be Allison,” someone said and then a beautiful woman stepped forward.

She had lovely dark skin marred pink where the stretch of claw marks scarred her face and a smirk that seemed friendly enough but promised danger if crossed. Allison liked her immediately.

“I am,” Allison said.

The woman smiled then and extended a hand, “Braeden.”

Allison clasped her fingers and tried not to gape. Braeden was Derek’s alpha but she had scars which meant that she was human. It was unheard of, a lycan and a human. Allison’s family had decried the practice loudly and often, not that it was an occurrence that happened other than the rare, extreme cases.

That was one of the reasons Allison’s own betrothal to the Alpha was both the height of hypocrisy and absolutely necessary to convince the realm that the peace was real.

But for just  _anyone_  to do it? With no political gains to be had, no meddling families, free of the burden of the fate of the kingdom?

Braeden’s smile sharped like she could read Allison’s thoughts but she simply stepped back and crossed her arms.

“What would you like to start with?”

Allison scanned the grounds and bit back a wide grin when she spotted the bows and arrows.

“Archery?”

_._

_In the heat of battle, Allison has to be mindless, completely focused on the tasks at hand – leading her garrison, keeping the villagers safe. And yet every time she sees one of_ them _, their sharp fangs and wicked claws and glowing eyes, she thinks of her mother and loses sight of all but the spark of vengeance that sputters angrily in her chest._

_The shouts and the screams and the roars all fade out around her until she’s at one with the weapon in her hand, mind and heart set on causing these ugly creatures the same hurt that they’ve caused her._

_“We can’t keep doing this!” someone – Ser Danielle – yells off to her left._

_Allison has her bow today and is positioned in the perfect place to pick off beast after beast with her arrows. Danielle isn’t as adept with a bow and arrow as Allison is but, then again, no one is. She’s still leagues better than anyone else and they stand together, a few feet between them._

_“We don’t have much choice,” Allison shouts back._

_“No, I only meant-”_

_They let their arrows fly at the same moment and pierce a towheaded creature right through the chest – one in the heart, another in the right lung._

_“You only meant?” Allison prompts._

_There’s a rustle and then Danielle’s at her side._

_“We’ve been doing this for the better part of a year, Allison. All of these tiny little skirmishes and for what? Mahealani Castle can’t be that valuable, can it?”_

_It’s nothing Allison hasn’t considered herself, but she hadn’t given it much thought because their job is simply to defend._

_Danielle’s right, though. There must be some reason that the lycans risk losing so many of their own when, inevitably, they simply retreat for a short time only to return and repeat the process._

_“Agreed,” Allison says. “And there’s only one way to find out what they want.”_

_Allison nocks an arrow and strides away from her position trusting Danielle to do her job. She ignores the shout of her name, the desperate, bloody fights around her, and picks a target. He looms over a fallen body, limbs arced in a protective cage. With his back to her, he’s a perfect target._

_The first arrow sings through the air and punches through his shoulder. She has the second nocked, aimed, and released before he can turn to roar at her. The third goes in the gut. The fourth through a lung. He’s covered in blood, face contorted in the shift. It’s dark out, too, only the faint light of the moon and distant torches and bonfires casting anything for them to see by._

_Allison tells herself that’s why she doesn’t see it until it’s too late. Until her daggers have severed the beast’s spine and he collapses, nerveless and twitching at her feet. She nudges him onto his back with her foot and watches his lupine features recede until he’s only human._

_Her stomach lurches and she thinks she might vomit. Instead she shouts for the nearest soldiers._

_“Take this one,” she says. “We need to keep him alive but immobile, understand?”_

_They lean down and hoist the body into the air and Allison stares at that slack face and wants to scream until her throat cracks and her heart stops aching._

_Jackson’s at her side in an instant, their differences forgotten for a moment._

_Allison shoves him aside and launches herself at another nearby monster, guts the thing where it stands, pretends she never heard Jackson at all._

_“What happened, Allison? What have you done?”_

_._

Braeden had Allison pinned and Allison had nearly figured out how to get out of it when a shout went up at the front gates.  The words were muffled by distance so Braeden immediately turned to Derek – who had been watching their sparring match with a smug look Allison did  _not_  appreciate.

He tilted his head and focused. Then his eyes lit on Allison and an oddly soft smile curled his lips.

“Lord Argent and Lady Lydia have returned,” he said.

It took a moment for the words to register and then Allison had shoved Braeden off and jumped to her feet.

“I’m sorry,” she said over her shoulder, but Braeden just laughed and waved her off.

Allison sprinted across the castle grounds so fast it felt like she was flying. She reached the front gate just as four riders pulled their horses to a halt. She recognized her father’s roan immediately, though the beard that shaded his face was new. Next to him, Lydia sat in a picture-perfect side-saddle looking entirely too perfect for someone who’d been on the road for so long.

The happiness that filled Allison was indescribable. She could have run circles around any wolf in that moment.

It all vanished when she glanced over their shoulders and took note of the other two riders.

First was a gorgeous blond woman who looked only vaguely familiar. That didn’t seem possible given the fact that she must have been one of the Alpha’s members of the envoy and before Derek, Allison hadn’t spent much time getting to know any lycans personally.

And next to her, unmarred and quiet and staring at her with an unsettling intensity, was Ser Boyd.

She could feel her mouth open and close repeatedly but no words came out, just choked sounds. Even when her father dismounted and ran to sweep her up in his arms, the moment of reunion was lost on her.

“Are you all right?” Father asked, stepping back to look at her.

He followed the line of her gaze and smiled, the expression small and rueful.

“I believe you know Boyd,” he said.

Allison nodded, feeling stiff and ungainly. It didn’t help when the blonde bared her teeth as if daring Allison to keep looking at him.

“Erica,” Boyd said, voice soft in a way Allison recognized from his time with her. “Let’s leave them be.”

She frowned but seemed content to dismount and take the reins of her horse and Father’s. Boyd helped Lydia dismount and did the same with her horse and his own. The pair walked off without a word. Allison couldn’t decide if she was relieved or if she’d simply postponed the inevitable.

“That’s his mate,” Father said gently. “And you’re betrothed.”

Allison wanted to laugh when she realized he thought she was  _pining_. The truth was so much worse. So much uglier.

She couldn’t run from it, not here and not now that she and Boyd were going to be family of a sort, so she pushed it down and turned to embrace her father again, instead. At least for a moment she could ignore it.

He held her close and she breathed deep, inhaling the familiar scent of home that clung to his skin. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and then released her into Lydia’s arms.

“You scared me nearly to death,” Lydia said into her ear. “All of us. Don’t do it again.”

Allison laughed wetly and held her friend tighter. “I make no promises.”

Lydia pinched her side and gave her another squeeze before stepping back.

“Well, you look all right at least. Derek seems to have kept his promise.”

Allison rolled her eyes. Lydia smiled and then looped their arms together.

“You’ll be happy to know they’re still singing songs about you throughout the Kingdoms. Only now there are songs about  _me_ , too.”

“Oh, really?”

“Bringing peace to the Twin Kingdoms, saving the Great Warrior Allison from uncertain death, taming wild beasts,  _and_  winning the heart of a brave and handsome prince. My songs are much better than yours. Less blood, more ripped bodices and feats of great intelligence.”

Behind them, Father snorted and Allison glanced over her shoulder.

“It’s all true,” he said, sounding half-dismayed about it.

“And then prince?” she asked Lydia.

“Let’s just say there’s a chance I might be queen someday.”

Allison begged to hear more and Lydia regaled her with tales of their time at the royal palace where the King’s eldest son Jordan became wildly enamored of Lydia and she of him.

She was right. It was a much better story than Allison’s own.

_._

_The squires weren’t quite battle ready, yet, but sometime after Allison’s seventeenth name day they got their first real look at war._

_“Things are getting worse,” Father says when he returns and assembles them all._

_Mother stands behind him, face frighteningly grave._

_“You’ve trained here under my wife’s supervision and with Ser Finstock. There’s no finer place to learn how to fight and think on your feet. It’s why you were all sent to us. And now we need you on the battlefield.”_

_Allison’s been preparing for this for years but she’d also thought she might have another year before being thrust into the thick of things, her fellow squires having an additional year beyond that. Her stomach squirms with a discomfiting blend of nerves and anticipation at the thought of finally being allowed to fight._

_It comes as a surprise to no one that Allison is assigned to partner with another Argent and she’s delighted to learn it’s Aunt Kate even though Mother is furious and would rather have Allison and her Father in a position where they might protect each other._

_“I’ll be fine, Mother,” Allison assures her._

_Mother frowns and says nothing until late that night. She pulls Allison aside and makes sure they’re alone before she speaks._

_“Your aunt is a formidable warrior,” she says, “And a decent enough soldier but she can be reckless. Be wary and look after yourself, first.”_

_“But-”_

_“No. I know you’re not to leave a man behind and I respect that, but she would leave you to die. Please remember that.”_

_The words swirl around Allison’s head as she and her small band of fellow squires, including Boyd, make their way to Aunt Kate’s post to the west where the air is dry, the forests are few, the days swelter and the nights freeze._

_She forgets them when they arrive over a week later and Aunt Kate greets them at the edge of their camp, eyes bright and smile warm. She catches sight of Allison immediately and holds out her arms. Allison dismounts and hesitates, not sure she should embrace her aunt in front of the other soldiers, but Kate reels her in and squeezes her tight._

_“Don’t worry about them,” Kate says, indicating the group around them. “I’ve got them well in hand.”_

_“I’m not at all surprised,” Allison admits with a smile._

_Kate pulls away, claps Allison on the shoulders, and gives her a lengthy once-over. When she whistles, Allison feels herself blush._

_“You’ve certainly grown into a lovely young woman. It must drive everyone_ mad _that they can’t have you every which way.”_

_“Kate!”_

_“What? I know men. If they haven’t thought of bedding you creatively and extensively, they’re probably dead.”_

_She winks at Allison and turns to greet the rest of the squires. Allison catches Boyd’s eye. When he lifts an eyebrow at her and glances at Kate, she just sighs. Allison’s made a habit of ignoring propriety herself, but Kate’s turned it into an art form._

_It’s quiet those first few days in the camp._

_“The bulk of the fighting happens further east,” Kate tells Allison one night. “The monsters know the woodlands better than most humans. There’s better cover for them and we think they have a network of hiding places. They always escape before we can do any real damage to their numbers.”_

_“Then why are we out here?” Allison asks. “Shouldn’t we be where the fighting is?”_

_“It’ll come to us,” Kate assures her._

_And it does._

_The attack comes at night when the moon overhead is nearly full and illuminates the stretch of desert like a pale, milky sun. Allison is dozing off next to Boyd by the fire, ears pricked for disturbances but mostly soothed by the wind rustling up sand and the distant calls of strange animals._

_A scream jerks her into wakefulness. There’s barely time for her and Boyd to leap to their feet and draw their swords before they’re in the middle of a bloody battle._

_Allison realizes quickly that there was no way for Finstock or Mother or anyone at the castle to prepare them for the way the beasts fight. Knowing about their claws and fangs, their superior strength and speed, is nothing like facing it head-on._

_The sword is useless. Even when she lands a hit, the beast simply retreats and returns moments later, healed and angrier than before. She fights back-to-back with Boyd, his calm, quiet strength and her quick-thinking at least keeping the field level._

_They were taught how to kill them – removing their heads or dismembering them completely being the only real ways – but they move too quickly. Poison would be a good alternative but their wolfsbane supply is on the other side of the camp._

_Allison can’t see anyone else; it’s just her and Boyd and their attackers with their elongated fangs and lightning-quick claws._

_“If there’s an opening for retreat,” Allison says. “You take it.”_

_“I won’t leave you,” Boyd yells back._

_Allison scarcely has time to feel heartened by his vow before the pair of them are separated. A female beast holds Allison aloft with a hand locked tight around her throat. Allison’s sword clatters to the ground and she claws at the fingers cutting off air to her lungs. It’s no use._

_The beast grins._

_“The Argent heir,” she says. “You know, we’ve been hoping we might get our hands on you someday. What a nice piece of leverage you are.”_

_Allison kicks out but the beast just laughs and squeezes tighter, eyes bright yellow and cold in the night. It’s as her vision starts to dim that Allison falls to the ground. Air rushes her lungs, sharp and cool, and scratches along her throat. She’s so busy coughing and dragging in deep gulps of air that she doesn’t realize what happened._

_It’s at the sound of a choked off scream behind her that she turns and sees Kate, backlit by the fire, swooping in and beheading the monsters Boyd’s managed to hold at bay. Allison shivers and turns back, looks in front of her and sees those same eyes, now a dull, flat brown, staring back at her from a severed head._

_Boyd runs over and pulls her to her feet. Allison can’t seem to stop looking at the dead body and doesn’t realize she’s trembling until she lifts her sword in a shaky hand._

_“It’s over,” he says._

_Allison glances around and notices that the beasts have retreated, probably not expecting to lose any of their own at all by targeting a small group of soldiers. And yet there are several bodies strewn about the camp, all of them headless. It looks like, despite everything, the humans have won this time._

_“Are you all right?” Allison asks, turning back to Boyd and resisting the urge to fret over him._

_He nods and peers closely at her as he asks, “Are you?”_

_“I’m unhurt,” she assures him even though she thinks her throat might bruise and her chest still feels tight._

_Boyd frowns; they both know that’s not exactly what he meant. But Allison’s saved from further questioning by Kate calling her name._

_Allison spots her several yards away and jogs toward her, slowing when she sees that Kate’s got a body under her heel._

_“Look what I found,” Kate says with a grin._

_The body squirms and a face turns toward Allison, dusty and pale and splattered in blood. Blue eyes glow like small orbs of light in the dark, the heavy brows above them twisted in something like defiance._

_“I think I’ll keep him,” Kate adds. “But if you’re good, maybe I’ll let you play with him later.”_

_And Allison, still reeling from the fight and the nearness of death and the reality of war, forces herself to walk away._

_._

With the treaty signed and peace official, things were suddenly moving faster than before. The wedding, which had been an event Allison imagined far in the future, was given a date – a fortnight from the day Father and Lydia returned.

“Don’t worry,” Lydia said when she gave Allison the news. “I’ll make sure it’s a tasteful celebration.  Goodness knows what might happen without my input.”

“I’m sure it would be fine, “Allison said, because she thought Kira and Malia and the rest of the household could probably manage just fine.

On the other hand, she was grateful that Lydia could provide personal touches and it wouldn’t be a one-sided ceremony. Lydia seemed to know it and dove right in with an excitement Allison almost envied.

For all that she’d grown up eager to join her family on the battlefield, Allison had also dreamed of her wedding day often. Marriage was such a romantic notion; the idea that she’d be with one person forever, that they would come to love each other, that Allison would fulfill her duties as an alpha to an omega of her own. She’d imagined it a hundred different ways but never like this.

It wasn’t even that she’d never met the Alpha or that he was a lycan. She’d had enough time to get used to that. She couldn’t say any of it was her first choice, but ultimately there was always a chance she might find herself in this situation anyway. She would – hopefully – come to care for the Alpha in her own way. And somehow they’d make it work, both of them dominant and without an omega to balance them out.

She could even ignore her feelings for Scott or the strange resurgence of curious yearning for Stiles that came fast at the heels of the wedding date.

What troubled her, now, was the prospect of being the lady of Wolf’s Keep when she’d hardly earned the title at all after what she’d done. She needed to know what the Alpha thought of her at least. She couldn’t bear it if she had to see him for the first time and face his judgment or disgust in front of her father and best friend. 

And so a week before the wedding, Allison cornered Derek in the library.

“I need to meet the Alpha,” she said.

Derek’s eyes flicked toward a darkened corner. Allison turned to look but there was nothing there. When she turned again, Derek was staring at her with his eyebrows lifted.

“I thought you weren’t interested?” he said.

“That was before I knew when, exactly, he was going to become my husband,” Allison shot back.

But Derek was uncomfortably astute when the mood suited him so he simply kept looking at her and waited her out.

Finally Allison sighed and said, “I’m sure you’ve heard the . . . stories about me. I’ve done terrible things and I need him to know. I need him to hear them from me.”

“Is this for your sake or for his?” Derek asked.

Allison bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from answering too quickly. It was a fair question and she owed it to Derek and the Alpha to consider the answer.

Was she simply seeking forgiveness for her own sake? Maybe there was a part of that at play. But the truth was that she couldn’t be anyone’s wife or lead a household of lycans without first telling her future husband and Alpha the truth.

She said as much to Derek after a moment. He was quiet and then he nodded.

“I’ll speak with him,” he said.

Allison left, prepared to fret away for a day or two before the Alpha made time in his schedule for her. She assumed, of course, that he was busy and that was why she never saw him. It turned out that might not be the case at all since Kira found Allison later that day.

“The Alpha said you wanted to see him?”

Kira led Allison to the south wing. It was the one part of the castle she’d only passed through a handful of times and she was surprised to realize it bustled with as much life as the rest of Wolf’s Keep. They passed several servants at work and the halls were wide and sunny.

There wasn’t an inch of this place that was gloomy and unwelcoming, Allison thought. She was proven wrong a moment later.

Kira brought them to a halt in front of a set of double-doors and edged one of them open. Allison hesitated and then stepped inside a large, dark room. The door closed behind her with a heavy sound and she had to take a deep breath and remind herself that she had no real reason to be afraid.

There was one candle in the room and it sat on a small, wooden table. Allison followed the light, her steps careful, and sat at the chair she could only assume had been left for her. It was quiet but she could tell the room wasn’t empty. She could hear him, couldn’t even smell him, but there was an energy in the space, something she couldn’t put a name to. The Alpha was somewhere in the dark, hidden for reasons she couldn’t understand.

“Is there a reason you don’t wish to be seen?” Allison asked, eschewing a greeting and getting straight to the point.

There was no answer at first and then a harsh gust of breath sounded off to her left. Allison turned her head slightly and saw the glow of red eyes several feet away.

“Perhaps I’m simply shy.”

The reply came on a voice like a growl, the words half-garbled by what she imagined were even more fearsomely sharp teeth than she’d seen on any other lycan before. There was a sweet note to the voice beneath all that, familiar in a way she couldn’t quite place. She felt herself oddly drawn to it.

“That would certainly explain a lot,” Allison said. “And yet I have my doubts.”

An inquisitive noise and then, “Why is that?”

“We alphas aren’t often lacking in confidence,” she said.

He laughed at that, a low, grating sound. Allison shivered and hoped he didn’t notice.

“True enough. An omega once told me he couldn’t decide if he found that particular trait attractive or obnoxious.”

Allison was immediately reminded of Stiles and smiled to herself.

“Sounds like someone I knew once.”

“Someone you cared for?”

Allison hesitated and then nodded. “It would have been impossible not to.”

The Alpha hummed and Allison wished she could see him. She wanted to know what he looked like and wondered if he preferred his shifted form. Would she have to get used to seeing it all the time? She wasn’t sure how she felt about the prospect. Not as disgusted as she might’ve thought.

“So why?” Allison asked.

“I was nervous,” he said simply. “Why decide to meet me now? Why not wait until the wedding?”

Allison shrugged and looked down at the table. There were claw marks dug deep into its surface. She traced them with her fingers and tried to figure out where to start.

“Do you know much about me?” she finally asked.

“You’re a great warrior,” he said easily. “Intelligent. Strong. Beautiful.”

Allison flushed at the praise.

“I’ve killed many of your kind,” she forced herself to say. “I’ve done . . . dishonorable things.”

The Alpha was quiet for a moment.

“You’re talking about Boyd.”

Allison’s head snapped up so quickly it made her neck ache but she ignored the pain in favor of frowning into those red eyes.

“How do you know?”

“I helped tend his wounds after you released him. He told me everything.”

“I-”

Whatever else Allison was going to say lodged itself in her throat. She swallowed hard but that only made it worse.

“We all did terrible things,” The Alpha said.

“Did you torture someone you loved?” Allison demanded. “Did you take joy in the killing and the pain? Did you turn your back on what was right because it was easy?”

“I nearly killed my own father,” the Alpha said. “Before I was even Bitten. He was . . . not a good man. And one night when he went after my mother I’d had enough. I was scared for her but more even than that I was  _angry_. And I’ve learned there’s not much more destructive than those two emotions combined.”

“How did you stop yourself?” she asked.

“I realized if I did that, I would truly be my father’s son. I chose to be my mother’s son instead.”

That was all well and good for him, Allison thought, but she was an Argent. She’d been raised to think that bloodshed was acceptable as long as the victims were lycans. Even now she struggled to reconcile what she’d believed for two decades with what she was learning to be true.

The Alpha had chosen to be his mother’s son. Allison was afraid that she’d turned into the model Argent, her mother’s daughter through and through.

“After my first battle,” she said, because she needed him to understand the scope of it all, “There was a boy. A wolf. My aunt . . . she took him. Did things to him. And I just let it happen. Maybe that’s just who I am.”

“I know about that, too,” the Alpha told her.

“From Boyd,” Allison said, thinking of those months together distracting each other from the war and from Kate.

“From Derek.”

Allison’s heart sank but she flashed to the blue eyes in that thin, defiant face and thought of Derek as she’d first met him, full of rage and hatred and sorrow all at once. One and the same, she realized, and thought she might be ill.

“We all know what you’ve done, here,” the Alpha continued. “We know the reputation of your family.”

“Is that why you tried to change the treaty?” Allison asked.

“No. No, that’s not why.”

Allison fell quiet, her mind reeling and her heart aching because here in the dark she was acknowledging all of the things about herself that she’d ignored for so long. It hurt but she thought perhaps the pain was a good thing.

“I don’t know how to make it right,” Allison admitted. “Any of it. I don’t even know how much of it I regret and what I’d do again given the chance.”

“I’m to be your husband. You won’t have to figure it out alone.”

Allison inhaled sharply and nodded.

“I really would like to see you,” she said after sitting in silence for a moment.

“I think I hear Lydia calling for you,” he said instead of answering.

Allison narrowed her eyes. “Don’t think I can’t tell what you’re doing.”

The quiet that followed was almost pointedly innocent. Allison huffed but got to her feet and started for the door. She paused before she could leave.

“I’d like us to make this marriage work,” she said.

“I don’t see any reason why it shouldn’t,” he replied.

There was nothing but sincerity in his growl of a voice and Allison felt a little lighter when she stepped outside and left to find Lydia.

_._

_Their prisoner gives them nothing, teeth clenched around whatever he might know, lips parting only so that he can howl and scream in pain._

_Allison doesn’t have the stomach for torture but Ser Matthew and Ser Violet have no such problems. For three straight days they try to bleed the answers from him._

_Who leads the lycans here on the coast?_

_Why have they targeted this village?_

_What does the Alpha plan next?_

_Over and over they ask. Over and over he refuses to answer. And so, over and over, they continue to torture him._

_Allison flits between the tent where they keep the prisoner captive and her own temporary quarters, too sick to eat or sleep. The rest of the camp is uneasy as are the villagers. The sounds of the prisoner being tormented split the air and make it impossible to ignore._

_“I don’t like this,” Danny says on the first day._

_“We need answers,” Allison tells him._

_On the second day, Danielle asks if they can move him somewhere he can’t be heard._

_On the third, Jackson corners Allison in her tent. She’s half-dressed and exhausted after having been in the prisoner’s tent for the better part of the day. Anger simmers low and warm in her gut but she’s too tired to fall into it. So she just stares at Jackson and waits for him to say his piece._

_“You loved him,” he finally says. “You thought you might marry him.”_

_“That was a long time ago,” Allison says._

_“Two years, only! He was one of us, Allison.”_

_“And now he’s one of_ them _,” she says. “And he might know something that could save lives.”_

_Jackson stares at her._

_“What?” she demands._

_He shakes his head._

_“They always thought I would grow up to be the cruel one,” he finally says and then leaves._

_She wants to follow him and yell, scream, insist that she’s not cruel she’s simply doing what needs to be done. But she knows, too, that he’s right. Because this isn’t just some faceless monster. This is_ Boyd _. Her first love. An omega._

_She’s doing what her Grandfather would want. What Mother would have done. What Aunt Kate_ has _done. It’s the right thing according to the rules of war. So why does she hate herself so much for it?_

_On the fifth night, Allison tells Matthew and Violet she wants to speak to the prisoner alone and slips into the tent._

_They’ve used just enough wolfsbane to keep him vulnerable and pliant but when he lifts his head, teeth bared and eyes glowing yellow, Allison can’t help the fear that creeps up her spine._

_“You should just kill me,” he says after a moment. “I have nothing to tell you.”_

_“You could tell me what happened,” she says._

_Boyd sniffs at that and lets his eyes fall shut._

_“I’d rather you just end it all now,” he says, “Than have you patronize me.”_

_“I’m not-”_

_“You_ are _,” he says._

_She bites her lip and stares at him, weak and hurting all because of her. It hits her, then, just how blind she’s been in her pursuit of vengeance. She’s pushed Jackson away, she’s found joy in killing, and now this. She knows Boyd, knows him intimately, and lycan or not he’s no monster. He could never be._

_“There’ll be a break between sentries in exactly five minutes,” Allison says, darting forward and unravelling the poisoned ropes they’ve used to keep him tied down. “The backside of camp will be unwatched. I’ll tell Violet and Matthew to leave you be for the night. I’ll have to send a few soldiers after you but you’ll have the night to get distance on the camp.”_

_Boyd sits up and she watches the sluggishness melt from his body._

_“Are you doing this to soothe your guilt?” he asks._

_“I’m doing this because I loved you once,” Allison admits, the honesty sharp and stinging in her mouth. “And because a part of me loves you still.”_

_She spares him one last glance and then leaves the tent, steps measured and head held high even though she feels nothing of the pride she knows her garrison expects to see in her._

_._

On the eve of the wedding, Allison found herself too nervous to sleep. According to Lydia, everything had been taken care of down to the last detail and all Allison needed to do was be married. She made it sound simple and technically it was, but that didn’t stop the anxious flurry from unsettling her stomach and keeping her mind alight with thought after thought.

There wasn’t much for it. At some time long past dark, Allison gave up on trying to sleep. She took a candle from her room and stepped out into the dark, silent hall.

Instinct or habit took her to the library and she paused at the door before stepping inside. For some reason, she wasn’t surprised to find the room occupied. Scott sat at a table in the corner, a nub of a candle illuminating his pensive face.

Allison’s breath caught and she thought about leaving only for him to look up and catch her gaze. When he didn’t immediately make some excuse to leave, she ventured closer.

“Don’t you have a big day tomorrow?” he asked quietly.

“I do,” she said, keeping her voice soft even though they were in no danger of disturbing anyway. “It’s keeping me awake.”

Scott tilted his head slightly and asked, “Are you dreading it?”

Allison shrugged slightly. “I met him. The Alpha.”

“And?”

“He’s not you.”

Scott sucked in a sharp breath and rose to his feet.

“Allison-”

“I know,” she said quickly. “I know it’s wrong of me to say and we hardly know each other but you make me feel . . .” She trailed off, unable to find the words. “You make me  _feel_.”

Silence stretched between them. Allison felt her cheeks flame with embarrassment and the oily tickle of rejection. It was for the best, she thought. Nothing could come of this but at least she’d said her piece and now he knew. Now she could work on letting it go.

“I’m sorry,” she said, looking up. “I-”

Scott moved so quickly Allison’s breath caught in her chest and the words died on her tongue. And then his hands had cupped her face, palms warm and gentle on her cheeks, thumbs light at the corners of her eyes. For a moment they just gazed at each other and she could see it even if his scent was still hidden from her. He felt the same. She wasn’t alone in this.

He opened his mouth to say something and Allison wanted to hear it, she wanted to listen to him every day for the rest of her life. But she wouldn’t be denied his words after tomorrow. There was something more important to do now before her vows would prevent it.

She darted in and pressed her lips to his, the kiss slightly off-center and awkward. For a handful of seconds she wondered at her own audacity and waited to be pushed away. And then Scott shuddered against her and hauled her close. Their lips slid and locked in a better kiss, this time.

It was a chaste press but for the passion that sang in Allison’s veins, nothing chaste about it at all. She wound her arms around Scott’s waist and fell against him. He held her up with ease, one hand holding her face steady while the other cupped the back of her head. Fingers wound through her hair and the sensation skipped along Allison’s scalp and down her spine.

She sighed against Scott’s mouth and felt his teeth, a careful graze against her bottom lip. They clutched at each other, trying desperately to get closer. His body was a line of strength and heat against her own and she wished she could feel his skin, touch him freely.

“Scott,” she breathed, pulling away to pepper kisses across his face.

“I know,” he said. “I know, I-”

She cut him off with another kiss and lost herself in the feel of his lips moving slow and sensuously against her own.

“Allison, wait,” Scott said, pulling back and catching her eyes. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something important.”

Allison shook her head. “You can tell me tomorrow. Let me have this tonight.”

A pained look crossed his face and he started to lean in again before his whole body went still and his head tipped up. She thought if he was a real wolf, his ears might be pricked to catch some faraway sound.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Trouble at the gate. I have to . . .” He trailed off. Pressed one last, lingering kiss to her forehead, and then sprinted away.

Allison stood for a moment, reeling and breathless. And then she rolled her eyes at herself and followed at a run. She caught up to Braeden just as she ran out into open air but the lycans had already gathered at the gate, claws out and bodies poised for a fight.

“Stand down!” she heard someone yell and saw Scott addressing the gathered wolves.

Allison blinked and turned to Braeden.

“What’s happening?” she asked. “Danger?”

Braeden shook her head even though she was armed with a sword and looked just as prepared to draw blood.

“I don’t think so,” she said.

“I need to see The Alpha!” a faint voice shouted from the other side of the gate.

Even as muffled as it was, Allison could hear the desperation and it made her stomach clench.

“I need to see Scott McCall!” the voice continued, and the world dropped out from beneath Allison’s feet.

Both Scott and Derek scaled the stone wall quickly and exchanged words with the guards. Braeden stepped closer but Allison felt rooted to the spot, body numb. And then Scott looked over the edge of the wall and jumped.

“Open the gate!” Derek yelled, a frantic edge to his voice. “Now!”

There was a flurry of movement and it seemed to take half an age before the gate had lifted. Allison finally found her legs again and ran closer, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Braeden and Malia. The smell hit them all at the same moment, something unbearably sweet and tangy and alluring.

“Get back! Liam, Kira, to me.”

Derek was back and urging the crowd to fall back. Allison grabbed Malia and tugged her back while Liam and Kira ran forward. They kept a keen eye on everyone else while Scott crossed under the gate, a body held carefully in his arms. Behind them was a disheveled man, his exhaustion evident even as he staggered forward, eyes on Scott.

Malia ran over and slid an arm under his shoulder. He spared her a grateful look.

“Someone wake my mother,” Scott was yelling.

Allison looked over at him, eyes flared red and clawed hands tender where they held a body to his chest.

And in his arms, someone she thought she’d never see again.

“Stiles,” she gasped.

Scott’s eyes flew to her and then he looked away, barking more orders to have a heat room prepared, water and food provided, guards alert in case they’d been followed.

Everyone sprang into action but Allison felt too winded to move. A hand cupped her elbow and she looked down to see Braeden frowning up at her.

“Scott’s the Alpha,” Allison said, the words like dust in her mouth.

Braeden nodded.

“I’m supposed to marry him tomorrow.”

“That you are. But right now I’d say this is more important.”

Allison nodded and followed Braeden inside. If she could be useful, she would seize the chance, if only for the distraction

_._

_“What’s it like?” Allison asks one night._

_Boyd lifts his head just enough to raise his eyebrows at her. She props her chin up on his bare chest and stares back._

_“What? I’m only curious. Anyone would be.”_

_He narrows his eyes but lets his head fall back and stares up at the ceiling, seemingly thinking over his answer. At least he must not be too upset, Allison muses, because he hasn’t stopped rubbing circles into her back with his hand._

_“I don’t know how to describe it,” he says finally. “It’s like being ill. You feel trapped in your body and it has needs you have to tend to and when you don’t . . . it only gets worse.”_

_“Do you lose yourself in it?” she asks, thinking only of the rumors she’s heard._

_Boyd snorts. “No. It might be easier if that were the case but you’re still yourself.”_

_Allison hums. “I wonder what it will be like when you don’t have to go through it alone.”_

_“I’ve heard it changes everything,” Boyd admits. “That all of the desperation and the misery transforms with a partner. And with a mate . . .” He trails off and shrugs as if there are simply no words for it._

_Allison presses a kiss over his heart._

_“That will be us someday,” she says. “I’ll be there to get you through it.”_

_“You’ll be good at it,” Boyd agrees. “You’re good at everything.”_

_“Well, that’s true.”_

_She shrieks with laughter when Boyd digs his fingers into her side and flips them so that he can loom over her. He’s not prone to smiles and the other squires all think he has no heart, no personality. But the way he looks at her, eyes soft and lips curved in the smallest of smiles, is proof enough that no one has more heart._

_“I think I might love you,” she says, the baby threads of their bond dancing at the admission._

_“Me too,” Boyd says, leaning down to kiss her soft and sweet and perfect and everything she could ever want._

_._

Everything about an omega’s heat was supposed to be carefully controlled. Omegas themselves were monitored closely by their families and, later, their mates if they were lucky enough to have one. Because they were so prone to running, the thought went that they had to be kept under constant watch. It also aided in determining an omega’s cycle and making the proper preparations.

For Allison’s father, the task had fallen jointly to Mother and Grandfather who did their jobs so well the castle only knew of his heats when he was home because Mother would sequester herself with him for the length of it. When he was away, there were herbal teas that halted his heat; for a young, unmated omega it was considered blasphemy to interfere with nature in such a way. But mated and having fathered and alpha already – and being so important to the war effort – it was acceptable for him.

Allison didn’t know much about heats. Her experience had only ever seen the process run so smoothly she’d never even seen her father in one. The same went for the other omegas of the household, squires included. Boyd had shared some details, Lydia and the Argent library others, but it wasn’t a topic to be discussed in polite company.

And now Allison was being asked to aid Stiles through his heat.

“No,” Allison said, the refusal coming quickly and without much thought.

Stiles’ smell still permeated the air even though he’d been sequestered in the heat room Scott’s staff had readied quickly. It was delicious and overwhelming enough that Allison’s body stirred with foreign cravings, but she couldn’t do this.

Derek and Scott shared a look (and if part of Allison’s refusal was out of her anger at Scott, she didn’t think she could be blamed).

“Please,” Scott finally said. “He needs the both of us.”

Allison glared at him. “How do I know you’re not lying about this, too?”

“I never lied, Allison. I was going to tell you and then-”

“What? It slipped your mind?”

“Enough!” Derek yelled.

Allison tore her gaze from Scott and frowned at the wall above Derek’s head.

“Allison,” he said, and his tone was urgent enough that she forced herself to look at him. “The time you spent together, it took.”

“No,” she said. “I’d have felt it. I’d know.”

“That’s not how it works,” Derek said. “Alphas don’t bond often, especially the humans. But omegas can’t help it. He’s been yours since I moved him into your cell in the dungeon.”

Allison swallowed hard and shook her head. “But omegas . . . you couple often without bonding.”

Derek shrugged. “Think on who taught you that was true.”

Her Grandfather. Her Mother. Kate. The Argents’ many journals and books but written by alphas. Alphas all. It made her sick to think that this whole time while alphas used omegas for their own purposes and moved on quickly and without consequence, omegas couldn’t do the same.

“What can I do?” she asked, feeling as if the last thin threads of everything she’d ever known had just unraveled.

“He’ll tell you,” Derek said. “Listen to him. Trust him. And do not hurt him.”

“She wouldn’t,” Scott said.

Derek nodded but the weight of his gaze was pointed and Allison understood; even if she didn’t intend to hurt him, she could. An alpha always had that power. She just wished, suddenly, that she had any real idea how to wield it.

She nodded at Derek and turned to Scott, eyes fixed somewhere over his shoulder.

“Let’s go then,” she said.

The heat room was at the end of the hall and Scott led the way quickly, Allison on his heels. It had been less than an hour since the commotion at the gate which meant it hadn’t been much longer since that they’d kissed. Allison’s body still tingled at the memory even though she was furious at Scott for misleading her.

This whole time he’d been the mysterious Alpha and said nothing. And for what? To toy with her?

They reached the door and Scott paused before opening it.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

His eyes fair glowed with sincerity but Allison wasn’t sure she could believe him. She didn’t know that she could believe much of anything anymore.

But Stiles needed her and she could feel an answering tug deep inside that space he’d carved out for himself, the one she’d ignored since they’d been separated. Allison had done a lot of things for a lot of reasons and she thought she had much to make up for. She would start here and now and Scott could be dealt with later.

After all, they had a lifetime together to look forward to.

“Stiles needs us,” she said. “Open the door.”

Scott nodded and didn’t hesitate to listen, but he didn’t stop looking at her when she crossed the threshold, either, eyes dark and searching.

_._

_There’s no celebration quite like a Presentation Ceremony and Allison awaits hers with the customary nerves._

_“What if I’m not an alpha?” she asks Mother the night before._

_“You will be,” Mother assures her._

_But there’s a chance she might be an omega and it fills Allison with fear. Betas breed betas. Alphas breed betas. Only an omega and an alpha together can have either an alpha or omega child. So while it’s likely that Allison will be an alpha like so many Argents before her, it’s just as likely that she’ll be an omega. She can only imagine how disappointed Mother will be, how ashamed Grandfather will make her feel._

_Her father’s an omega, yes, and a wonderful man. But alphas are strong. They inherit their family name and title and all that goes with it. If Allison presents as anything else, the Argent line will be in danger of dying out._

_She hardly sleeps that night, her body restless and squirmy. The next morning, Lydia chides her for being so anxious._

_“It’ll all work out,” she says. “You’ll be an alpha and everyone will fawn all over you and you’ll grow tired of it within a week.”_

_“I hope so,” Allison says._

_“Trust me.”_

_Despite everyone else’s overwhelming confidence, when Allison dons her mother’s veil and steps up onto the dais in front of a crowded Great Hall, she feels almost faint with self-doubt._

You’re hardly good enough to be an alpha _, a voice says in her head._ You’re not strong enough or smart enough. Your whole family will hate you. You’ll be sold off to whoever finds you valuable for breeding. Your life will be over in a few short minutes.

_Allison holds her breath when the priest steps up next to her, a local druid with brown skin and kind eyes._

_“Lady Allison,” he whispers, “Please don’t forget to breathe. I promise it will be painless.”_

_Allison forces herself to exhale and closes her eyes as he chants and drips oil on the crown of her head. It soaks the fabric of the veil and she can feel it warm and slick against her scalp. Her skin tingles and a feeling like she needs to sneeze bubbles up in her head before it fades just as quickly._

_“Leave behind the veil,” the druid murmurs. “And show us who you really are.”_

_It’s clear what she has to do but Allison isn’t sure she can. She glances at the audience, sees her Mother and visiting Father. Mother frowns and gives a fierce nod. Allison can just hear her barking that this is taking too long and Allison has been given a command to obey._

_But next to her, Father’s smiling possibly the biggest she’s ever seen. She can see his teeth and his eyes crinkle at the corners. She hasn’t even Presented, yet, and he’s so happy. Happy just that she’s here, she thinks. Happy that she’s his daughter. And she knows then that she’d be proud to be an omega because her Father is one and no matter what happens, he’ll love her as he always has._

_Allison’s hands are steady as she lifts the veil. The druid blows a shimmering dust in her face. This time Allison does sneeze and feels a faint flare of energy course through her veins._

_When she opens her eyes she doesn’t have to look farther than her Mother’s proud face to know the symbol painted onto her forehead in holy water has flared alpha red. But the first person Allison runs to is her father. He holds her tight, kisses her cheek, and pulls back to smile at her._

_“You’re going to be great,” he says and Allison’s determined to prove him right._

_._

Allison had never seen a heat room before. She’d assumed they were just like any private chambers and she wasn’t wrong about that. She wasn’t exactly right, either.

The room was surprisingly warm, a fire blazing in a brazier in the corner, and there was no bed. Instead, a veritable nest of blankets and pillows provided a cozy, comfortable space in the middle of the room and that was where they found Stiles – wrapped in blankets and shivering so hard his teeth chattered.

He looked up as soon as they stepped inside and his eyes lit first on Scott and then Allison. Cheeks that had been pale moments before flared with color and a smile trembled at the corner of his mouth.

“Two alphas to take care of me? I must be special and no one told me.”

“You’re just the fool who couldn’t keep his bond to just one person,” Scott chided, but there was warmth and fondness in his voice.

“ _Pre-_ bonded with you,” Stiles said. “Hardly my fault. As for Allison . . .”

“Also hardly your fault,” she finished for him.

He shot her a grateful look and then a hand snaked out of his blankets and he patted the space next to him.

Scott didn’t hesitate to sit and Allison followed, the reality of the situation hitting her suddenly. Here she was, unmated and unbonded, with her future husband and an omega in heat. And she was wearing her nightclothes. It was so ridiculous she could’ve laughed. Instead she settled as close to Stiles as she dared.

“How bad is it?” Scott asked, reaching out and ruffling a hand through Stiles’ wild hair.

Stiles pushed into the touch, his eyes slipping half-closed, and managed a rueful grin.

“Remember my first heat? Worse than that.”

Scott cursed under his breath and Allison looked between the two of them.

“You  _know_  each other?” she asked. “You’ve pre-bonded?”

Stiles blinked at Scott. “You didn’t tell her?”

“I meant to,” he insisted, a flush climbing up his cheeks.

Allison refused to find it endearing.

“Apparently he  _meant_  to tell me a great many things,” she said. “Somehow he forgot it all.”

Stiles groaned and it took Allison a moment to recognize it wasn’t from pain or . . . anything else. Instead he reached out a feeble hand to flick Scott across the nose.

“Hey!”

“You deserved it.”

Scott looked to Allison like she might defend him. If anything, she inched a little closer to Stiles. Scott frowned at them both but there was a guilty set to his mouth.

“I did apologize,” he muttered, a bit mulish. “And I would’ve told you everything if  _this_  one hadn’t shown up and interrupted.”

 “What could I possibly have interrupted this late at night with my  _inconvenient_ heat?” he asked sarcastically. And then he perked up. “Wait. Was there a moment? Were you . . .”

His hands emerged again from the blankets and made a lewd gesture. Scott flushed to the tips of his ears but it reminded Allison so much of her old garrison that she had to hide a laugh behind one hand.

“No!” Scott said. “Not that I wouldn’t- I mean I obviously . . . but we haven’t even discussed and-”

“Stop before you hurt yourself,” Allison cut in, but the words lacked any real heat.

Scott glanced at her through his eyelashes and she reminded herself, again, that he was an utter cad.

“I apologize on his behalf,” Stiles said. “He’s not usually this helpless. He did help win us a war after all. Our true Alpha.”

There was a note of pride in Stiles’ voice that Scott responded to with a shy smile. He carded his fingers more carefully through Stiles’ hair, the gesture taking on an intimacy that had been missing before. Allison glanced away.

“What is that?” she asked, eyes fixed on the wall.

“A true Alpha?” Scott asked.

She nodded and turned just in time to see him rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Don’t bother asking him,” Stiles said. “He’ll just make it sound unimportant.”

Before Stiles could go on, a hard shudder racked his frame and he let out a shuddery moan. Both Allison and Scott moved forward and flanked him on either side.

“What is it? What do you need?” Allison asked, hands hovering over his body and unwilling to touch without consent.

“Would you hold me?” Stiles asked and then made a face. “I know how that sounds just . . . I need to be near you.”

Allison glanced at Scott who nodded. She hesitated and then crawled around behind Stiles, hiked her skirt up around her hips, and let her legs fall to either side of him. Then she eased him back into the cradle of her body, her hands coming to rest above his chest.

There was a little sigh of relief and then Stiles held out a hand.

“You, too. You’re not getting out of this.”

Scott let himself be pulled closer, trying to give Allison as much space as he could. His hand found Stiles’ hair again and this time the petting resulted in a quiet, steady purring sound. It took Allison a moment to realize that Stiles had dozed off, mouth slack and eyes closed. At least, she noticed, the shivering had stopped.

“He Presented early,” Scott said after a moment. “No one expected it. Perhaps we wouldn’t even have known if it hadn’t been for his heat.”

Allison considered ignoring him, but she felt unreasonably calm and amiable with Stiles in her arms like this. She resisted the urge to nuzzle the top of his head and looked at Scott instead.

“You grew up together?”

Scott nodded. “In a small village not that far from here, actually. It was just Stiles and his father by then and he and I had been inseparable for years so only the two of us knew when it happened. His father wanted to keep it that way so he sent us to a cave deep in the woods, scattered wolfsbane to mask our scent.

It was just the two of us and Stiles’ body wasn’t prepared for the heat, yet, so it was bad. I thought he might die but I refused to believe he wouldn’t be okay. I had to take care of him. Keep him safe. Comfortable. I read to him mostly.”

“And the rest of the time?” Allison asked, curious.

Scott shrugged. “Held him just like you are now. He couldn’t . . . you know. There was no real  _drive_. No  _need_. Just a fever. Chills. He slept often and like the dead. After that, his father took Stiles to a druid who was willing to provide the herbs necessary to stop his heat and mask his scent and he’s used them ever since.”

“Then why now?”

“The dungeon, we think,” Scott said. “After he was captured the effects wore off.”

He looked down at Stiles, an expression of such tenderness on his face it almost hurt to see.

“People know what he is, now,” Scott continued. “It’s why his father brought him to me.”

Allison swallowed hard, her arms tightening around Stiles instinctively.

“You love him,” she said.

“All of my life,” Scott admitted.

She looked down at Stiles’ face and felt stirrings of the emotions that had plagued her in the dungeon. She brushed a piece of hair from his forehead and smiled when he tilted up into her touch.

“Is  _that_  why you tried to change the treaty?”

 “Is it so hard to believe I thought we both deserved the right to choose?”

“The choice was never going to be mine,” she said.

“But it should have been. Allison.” She looked up and he gazed at her, eyes dark and serious. “It should have been.”

She nodded once and looked away, her heart kicking up a confused flutter in her chest.

_._

_Sometimes things just don’t work out quite as you planned. It’s a lesson Allison has learned the hard way, but it isn’t until she watches the claws pierce Jackson’s chest that she realizes how woefully unprepared she always is for it._

_Her heart stops beating at the sight of the blood but her body continues, a horrid scream rattling in her throat as she runs forward and swings her sword down with an almost inhuman strength._

_She cleaves the attacking beast’s head clear off its shoulders without blinking and then drops her weapon and falls to her knees._

_Jackson’s pale already but his eyes are focused, terrified._

_“Can you walk?” she asks. “Because I can’t carry you and we need to get you to safety.”_

_“Leave me,” he says._

_She ignores him and tries to pull him up. He shoves her away and she lands on the ground, stunned._

_“They’re here for_ you _, Allison,” he says, his voice thin but firm. “You have to run now.”_

_The sun’s bright overhead and all around is the sound of screaming. This time the lycans attacked during the day and sent numbers enough to overwhelm the garrison. Violet and Matthew have already fallen and she lost sight of Danny shortly after. And now Jackson is injured, covered in blood, in need of help._

_Her whole garrison might die here and Allison can’t run from that._

_“Then they can have me,” she says. “But not until I save you. Do you hear me? Only then.”_

_Jackson stares up at her and then nods. Allison takes in a breath and leans down, uses all of her strength to get Jackson to his feet. He staggers, one arm pressed to his wounds, but stays upright. She bends for her sword and then curls an arm around his waist and sets off._

_Allison leads them around the back of the camp where the fighting is thin and the path to the castle is clear. The sounds of the battle are a wall of noise behind them but ahead it’s almost discomfortingly calm. Allison focuses on Jackson’s ragged breaths and the solid weight of him as they move as quickly as they can._

_There’s a shout from behind them. Jackson drops and Allison throws herself to the ground just as a body flies over them. The beast lands in a crouch a few feet ahead and stands, eyes glowing blue and claws extended. An arrow hits him in the chest and he falls back a step._

_Allison looks over her shoulder and sees Danielle standing on the path, bow and arrow in hand. The beast roars and starts to charge._

_Allison has a bare second to make her decision. She catches Jackson eye and tries to communicate without words how desperately sorry she is for everything._

_“Live,” she tells him. “That’s an order.”_

_And then she’s on her feet, yelling to steal the beast’s attention._

_He turns away from Danielle and fixes his eyes on her. Over his shoulder, Allison sees Danny running up the path and breathes a little sigh of relief. He’ll make sure Jackson’s taken care of._

_“I hear you came for me,” Allison tells the beast. “You’ll have to catch me first.”_

_And then she sprints off into the surrounding woods. A howl splits the air, hopefully calling away the rest of the lycans and sparing her garrison and the village anymore casualties. At the sound of footfalls behind her, Allison speeds up._

_She knows they’re faster but she’ll make them run her down if they plan to take her._

_And eventually they do._

_._

“It’s our wedding day,” Allison said some hours later.

She and Scott had dozed off eventually but Stiles had woken them later, too hot to sleep comfortably now that his heat had settled. He’d never fully woken but she and Scott hadn’t been looking after him ever since.

Someone had already brought breakfast. They were to be wed in just a handful of hours.

“It is,” Scott agreed.

He held up a grape and Allison turned her head to take it between her teeth.

They’d discovered quickly that if Allison took her hands off of Stiles, he grimaced as if in pain and trembled so badly Allison’s own body shook with the force of it. Scott had offered to feed her and she’d agreed. Now every time he pressed food to her mouth, his gaze locked on her lips and Allison couldn’t help but think of their kiss.

“We can’t leave him,” she said.

“I suppose we could just have the priest come to us here,” Scott mused.

“Isn’t that a bit unconventional?”

“Isn’t all of it?”

They shared a small smile and Allison looked down at Stiles. He seemed healthier than he had before, skin flushed and warm to the touch. His sleep was relatively peaceful, now, but he needed to eat. She shook him gently. He stretched, his head pressing hard against her belly and his chest arching up into her hands.

“Someone smells happy,” Scott mused and Stiles pried his eyes open.

“Wouldn’t you?”

Allison rolled her eyes and poked Stiles in the ribs.

“You need to eat something.”

He nodded and sat up. It put a little distance between them and Allison thought she might be able to take her hands away. As soon as she did, Stiles doubled over and gasped. She scooted up behind him and circled his waist with her arms, pressed her cheek to the middle of his back.

He breathed out hard and leaned back against her.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be,” she said. “I like it as much as you.”

He snorted softly and muttered, “I doubt that.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she shot back, whispering the words into his skin.

Scott coughed and Allison looked up at him but he was smiling at them both, eyes fond and warm.

“More?” he asked.

Allison nodded and Scott fed her another grape. Stiles craned his head back to watch and then turned to Scott and said, “Me, too?”

Scott rolled his eyes but didn’t hesitate to feed the pair of them and himself. It reminded Allison of when Stiles cared for her in the dungeon and she wondered at how it felt when she wasn’t weak and frightened. She’d never been cared for like this. As an alpha, it was always her job to care for others. And yet Scott didn’t seem to mind and he didn’t seem put off by her liking it, either. If anything, he enjoyed it was much as she did.

They ate all of the food they’d been provided and after, Stiles was finally able to sit slightly apart from Allison. He kept their legs tangled but took the opportunity to stretch out.

“Tell me a story, Scott,” he said, arms thrown out to the side and eyes closed.

Allison raised her eyebrows at him and Scott shrugged.

“Once upon a time there was a princess betrothed to a wicked beast,” he started and winked.

“Was she horrified?” Stiles asked.

“Oh, very,” Scott answered, eyes locked on Allison’s.

“And then?” Stiles prompted.

“Well, she ran away of course,” Scott said. “She wanted to see the world and slay the last of the dragons. She had no time for a husband and especially not a monstrous one.”

Stiles hummed. Scott opened his mouth to continue but Allison jumped in.

“But it didn’t go as she planned,” she said.

Stiles cracked one eye open but didn’t say anything so she went on.

“On her adventures she happened to meet a beautiful boy. Well, at first she only wanted to know him because he knew where all the dragons were and promised to help her slay them all. But the longer she knew him, the more she thought she could love him.”

“So this is a love story,” Stiles said.

“Of a sort,” Allison told him. “Because she and the boy were separated on the road and she never told him how she felt.”

“The past had caught up to her,” Scott continued. “And she was taken home to fulfill her duty and be married.”

“And it was terrible?” he asked.

Allison looked at Scott again.

“For a time. She couldn’t stop thinking about her lost love and she feared her husband. But he was gentle and kind and she thought she might learn to love him, too.”

Stiles sat up on his elbows and looked between Scott and Allison.

“And did the lost love return and ruin everything for the princess and the beast?”

Allison finally looked away from Scott and frowned at Stiles.

“Would you like to tell the story for us?”

“No, no. Continue,” he said.

She rolled her eyes but admitted, “I don’t really know how it ends. Scott?”

Scott looks from Stiles to Allison. “Well, the lost love did return. He went to the castle to kill the beast and rescue the princess but she stopped him and asked him to stay and see how wonderful the beast truly was. And so he did and fell more in love with the princess but also came to love the beast, and the beast him.”

Allison had to look away, her skin suddenly hot all over.

“And then?”

“And then they lived as three, happily forever after.”

Silence fell between them and then Stiles said, “I like that one.”

Allison looked up at Scott and said, “So do I.”

_._

_Allison wakes up alone and in pain. She doesn’t know where she is, only that this is a dungeon and somewhere there is a leak._

_._

Allison woke slowly, her body flushed and her breath coming quick and shallow in her chest. She was pressed between two bodies and became aware of them slowly – Stiles held in her arms and Scott against her back. They’d dozed off earlier after a drowsy conversation full of shared secrets and surprised laughter. Now she was awake and didn’t know why, she just knew she felt restless and needy.

Scott shifted behind her, hips pressed flush against hers, and she sucked in a breath.

“It’s his smell,” Scott said against her ear. “Breathe through it, you’ll be fine.”

He was right. Stiles’ scent had bloomed in the past hour or so into something heady. It had been tantalizing before, almost to the point of distraction. Now it left her toes curling and her belly liquid-hot.

“The wedding,” she said.

“Delayed. The worst of it will pass tonight.”

“The guests?”

“Lydia offered to take care of it.”

That, at least, meant that things were being handled elsewhere. It wasn’t ideal and Allison wasn’t sure how she felt about walking down the aisle the night after being locked in a heat room with her betrothed and the omega bound to them both.

She wasn’t likely to be ashamed, she realized. The thought filled her with pride instead, that tomorrow she might stand in front of witnesses and they would know she had cared for her omega  _and_  her alpha well.

It was so unexpected she had to bury her head in the back of Stiles’ neck and remind herself how to breathe. This was too fast, too strange, but that primal part of her that had always felt untapped and neglected had roared to life. She’d only ever felt quite like this with a bow in hand. It would be a lie to say she didn’t like it.

“Allison. You smell funny,” Stiles muttered.

“Then stop sniffing me.”

“Can’t,” he said.

He stretched then, body undulating against Allison’s in a way that left her brain muddied and her mouth dry.

“Stiles,” Scott said, almost a warning.

“I know,” he said and tried to roll away.

Whatever distance he’d bought earlier seemed to be gone now. He barely made it out of Allison’s arms before he let out a tiny, pained noise and she was reeling him back in.

“Dammit.”

“What is it?” Allison asked.

“I need . . . I can take care of myself but we’re stuck like this.”

This was the part of the heat that Allison had expected, what everyone pondered on in titillated whispers. At peak fertility, an omega was more . . . sexually receptive than normal, as Lydia had put it once. The soldiers didn’t put it quite so delicately.

So far it had been nothing at all like everyone had said with Stiles desperate and mindless and willing to take anything offered to him. But Allison could smell it on him, his sexual readiness. He needed completion and she would have to hold him while he sought it out.

She shared a look with Scott over her shoulder.

“I can take him,” Scott offered. “If you’d like to leave.”

“No!” Allison and Stiles said at once.

She held him tighter and he trembled in her grip.

“No,” Allison said after a moment. “I’ll be fine. Go on,” she added to Stiles.

He gasped out a breath and she tucked her nose into the crook of his neck, inhaled his scent and let it settle in her blood like some decadent, drugging thing.

A shuddering moan slipped past Stiles’ lips and she forced herself not to look, offering the only kind of privacy she could. Behind her, Scott had tipped his hips back and she fought the urge to chase the hard heat of him. He gripped her hip like he sensed her desire and she couldn’t tell if he was holding her still or hanging on.

She could feel the movement of Stiles’ arm as he took himself in hand, could smell the heavy, musky smell of his arousal and could only imagine what it was like for Scott. Scott who she wished she could scent even though he kept it masked. Maybe especially then.

“Scott,” she said, surprised at how hoarse her voice was, “We can’t smell you.”

Stiles whined in agreement, the movement of his arm quickening. Scott growled, the sound vibrating through her body, and she felt him shifting behind her. She craned head back to watch him pull a thin, leather cord over his neck and toss it into the brazier. A thick, floral scent filled the air and then dissipated and left her drowning in the rich forest-and-rain smell that had to be Scott.

A sound tore out of Stiles’ throat and his body stiffened her Allison’s grip. She felt something body-warm and sticky-wet splash against her arm and had to look. Her eyes traced the length of Stiles’ body down to where his cock was still cradled in one hand, the head slick and pink, threads of his come staining his fingers and the bottom of Allison’s forearm.

She brought it up without thinking and touched her tongue to her stained skin. The taste of Stiles was too bitter to be good but it satisfied some untouched need deep inside. Scott made a sound behind her, something caught between a whine and another growl, and dragged his fingers through the rest of the mess.

She looked back to watch as he licked his fingers clean.

“You can’t just  _do_  that,” Stiles groaned.

Allison turned back to him, stomach cramping with sudden embarrassment and shame. She’d overstepped her boundaries. He hadn’t given his permission. She’d done something horrible.

But Stiles just let his head fall back against her shoulder and said, “When you do that, I just want you more.”

Allison swallowed thickly, thought about all of the plans she’d had for her life and how none of them mattered anymore. What did matter was being here and now. Making her own choices. Being led by her own mind and heart and body instead of simply doing as she’d always been told.

“You can have me,” she said.

Scott’s hand tightened and she thought he might leave her flesh bruised in the shape of his fingers. The thought made her shiver and press her hips back, seeking the thrust of Scott against her.

“Scott?” Stiles gasped out.

“You’ve always had me,” Scott said.

Stiles rolled over so quickly Allison didn’t realize what was happening until she was able to look into his sharp, amber-brown eyes. His skin was red and sweat dampened his hairline. She wanted to press her lips to every bare inch of him and then to watch Scott do the same.

“The bonds,” he said. “You have to mean it or else-”

Allison surged forward and kissed him quiet. Stiles made a high-pitched noise deep in his throat and clutched at her shoulders.

“I mean it,” she said.

“You’re ours if you want it,” Scott added, leaning over her until their heads were all nearly touching at three points. “But only if you want it.”

“I think,” Allison said, looking from Stiles to Scott, “That maybe we should be each other’s.”

The force of both Stiles and Scott’s smiles was nearly blinding and Allison couldn’t keep her own contained.

“I’d like that,” Stiles said.

“As would I,” Scott agreed.

This time Stiles closed the gap, kissing Allison first and then Scott, chaste presses to seal it between them. He pulled back, eyebrows raised, and nodded at them.

“Now you.”

Scott shifted until he was braced over Allison on one hand, the other held tight between one of Stiles’. He stared down at her for a long moment.

“I truly am sorry,” he said.

And Allison thought of how her anger hadn’t even lasted the night because Scott was exactly who she’d always wanted. Now she had him and more. She couldn’t know what she might’ve chosen if things were different but she could choose this now.

“I know,” she told him.

This time when he kissed her, she felt it light her up from her head to her feet. It made her feel weightless and all-powerful. This wasn’t the last time she would have him like this and she fell into the kiss with giddy enthusiasm.

The feather-light brush of lips against her neck made her sigh and she could feel Stiles’ free hand splay across her belly and rest there, patiently awaiting permission to explore further. She nipped lightly at Scott’s lower lip, satisfied at his small moan and the way his mouth fell open to hers so easily. She licked past his lips and took Stiles’ hand in her own, urging it up to cup one of her breasts.

Her nightgown suddenly felt flimsy, the fabric thin, as Stiles brushed his palm over one nipple and then did it again as it stiffened to a peak. A curious pinch made Allison arch up, her lips falling from Scott’s so she could gasp into the humid air.

Scott looked down and then ducked his head and closed his mouth around the nipple Stiles had teased to hardness. Even through cloth the sensation was enough to make Allison’s toes curl. One hand buried itself in Scott’s hair and the other tugged frantically at Stiles’ tunic.

He sat up and tore it off. Allison dragged her eyes open and took in the sight of him, lean and lovely with dark hair spattered across his chest and another line of it leading down past the tented waistband of his breeches.

“You, too,” she said, tugging Scott up and away.

He sat back and the feel of the air on her wet gown made Allison blush. She and Stiles both watched as Scott pulled off his own tunic and she wanted to look her fill of his muscled skin only slightly less than she wanted to touch.

She sat up and smiled when Scott and Stiles got tangled up trying to get her out of the gown at the same time. Once she was bare to their eyes, they both stared in a way that made her want to preen.

“You’re beautiful,” Scott said and Stiles could only nod in reply.

“As are you,” she said.

“We could sit here complimenting each other all night,” Stiles cut in. “Or . . .”

He trailed off and hooked his fingers in the waistband of Scott’s breeches.

The rest of their clothes came off in a flurry of movements and it took some maneuvering to figure out how to fit three of them together. They were none of them virgins but all of them new to this many partners at once. Allison liked knowing that they were figuring it out together, that they could laugh about what didn’t work and moan happily at what did.

“How do you want us?” Allison asked, plastered up against Stiles on one side with Scott on the other.

She already pinched and licked his nipples to red, swollen peaks and he was boneless and gasping into Scott’s mouth as they traded slow, wet kisses. When Scott pulled away, Stiles stared up at him, pupils so wide his eyes were practically black.

“Fuck me,” he gasped, the words gloriously filthy in his mouth.

Scott buried his groan in Stiles’ neck while Allison squeezed her thighs together for momentary relief.

“Be more specific?” Allison asked. “We can’t give you what you need if we don’t know.”

“Fine,” Stiles said, still breathless. “Scott, I want you inside me.”

Scott nodded helplessly against Stiles’ skin. And then Stiles turned to Allison and tugged her up toward his face.

“And I want you here,” he said, pointing at his mouth.

“Fuck,” Allison muttered, her whole body flushing at the thought.

“And I want it  _now_ ,” Stiles added. “ _Please_.”

Scott finally reared back and settled between Stiles’ legs. Allison watched as Scott took Stiles’ cock in one hand and stroked it with a slow, easy rhythm. His other hand reached down and pressed deep where Allison knew Stiles would be slick and swollen and ready.

Stiles cried out when Scott fucked him open and Allison, not one to be left out of anything this fun, bent down to take the head of Stiles’ cock between her lips. She thought she heard curses from both men and glanced up from under lashes to see Scott staring down at her with a look so hot and wanting she felt her cunt give a needy throb.

Scott was meticulous in preparing Stiles and Allison was happy where she was, his cock heavy in her mouth. Stiles bucked and writhed beneath them, a steady stream of moans and curses falling from his lips.

“I’m ready, I’m ready,” he finally cried out.

Scott urged Allison off with a gentle hand in her hair. She sat up and he pulled her into a kiss, tongue sweeping her mouth like he could catch the flavor of Stiles and keep it for himself. She was out of breath when she pulled back and had to watch as Scott guided his cock, long and thick and flushed red at the tip, to Stiles’ hole.

Allison watched, her own hand straying between her thighs as Scott slid inside with the utmost care, a controlled thrust of his hips. Stiles whined and tried to urge him on faster but Scott pinned his hips down and growled.

“Be patient,” he said.

Stiles sighed and blinked open wet eyes.

“Perhaps  _someone_  could distract me,” he said.

Allison raised an eyebrow at him.

“Ask me nicely,” she said. “And perhaps I will.”

Stiles scowled at her, the effect ruined by the way his eyes rolled back as Scott finally bottomed out.

“ _Please_  Allison won’t you fuck my mouth?”

Allison glanced at Scott and they exchanged twin, predatory grins.

“As if I could resist,” she said.

“Then get  _up_  here,” Stiles bit out.

This wasn’t something Allison had ever done. She felt oddly exposed and vulnerable as she straddled Stiles’ chest and then let him urge her further up. But at the first touch of his mouth to the very core of her, she shuddered and lost herself to the pure pleasure of it.

Behind her, she could hear the slap of skin against skin as Scott picked up the pace and started to fuck Stiles in earnest but it was just pleasurable white noise. She couldn’t focus on much beyond the flicks of Stiles’ tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerve endings she’d discovered as a teenager, each lick lighting a fire under her skin that burned hotter and higher the longer he worked. The slick, wet sounds of his mouth made Allison feel dirty in the most beautiful of ways and she reached down to bury her hands in his hair.

He blinked up at her, sounds of pleasure muffled into her flesh. And then his eyes slipped shut, face nearly slack with pleasure even as his tongue continued to move over her.

Allison felt his hands grip her and urge her hips into a rocking motion and she took up the rhythm, moving her hips against his mouth as if to seek her own pleasure. She was dimly aware of Scott behind her, hands occasionally trailing across her back or following the line of her spine, but her world was centered around Stiles and the wondrous miracles he worked with his mouth.

“I’m close,” Scott gritted out behind her.

Stiles tilted his head away from her long enough to say, “Do it, please.”

And then Scott groaned and went still. Stiles whimpered and moved his mouth back to Allison, tongue and lips working even more furiously. She could hear wet noises behind her and realized that must be Scott taking Stiles into his mouth. The thought of it, of how that might look, sent Allison over the edge. She gripped Stiles’ hair in her hands and her whole body jerked as she came, thighs shaking and desperate cries spilling past her lips as Stiles licked and licked and licked.

She finally fell off of him, boneless and trembling, only to look down and watch Scott hollow his cheeks around the head of Stiles’ cock. She reached out, fingers finding a nipple and squeezing it. Stiles went still and then his body arched up and his lips parted on a shout. Allison stared, rapt and dizzy.

When Scott crawled up Stiles’ body, she yanked him into a kiss and licked Stiles’ salt-bitter taste from his mouth.

They fell into a heap of sweaty, sticky limbs and traded kisses back and forth until the exhaustion set in again. Stiles yawned and tucked his head under Allison’s chin, arms and legs twined with hers. She kissed the top of his head and smiled at Scott who crowded up against his other side.

“My alphas,” Stiles murmured. “I must be the luckiest omega in the Kingdoms.”

“I’m finally feeling fair lucky myself,” Allison said.

Scott kissed the back of her hand and then the slope of Stiles’ shoulder.

“As am I,” he agreed.

Allison fell asleep just like that, with a smile still on her face.

_._

“You look lovely,” Allison said.

Lady McCall looked at her and said, “I should be telling you that, shouldn’t I?”

Allison shrugged.

She’d already been told she looked beautiful by Lydia and Kira. Even Malia had granted that she was passable enough which was high praise from her. Father’s eyes had welled with tears and she could only imagine what Scott and Stiles might think of the white gown Scott had commissioned for her even before they’d met.

But this was the first time that she’d met Scott’s mother – “I may have pre-judged you based on your reputation,” she’d explained and Allison had said, “I can hardly blame you.” – and it was true that she was a remarkable woman to behold.

“Well,” Lady McCall said, looking flushed and pleased. “Thank you.”

“I’m sure Stiles’ father will agree,” Lydia added coyly.

Lady McCall glared at her but there was no real anger to it. She clapped her hands together and waved all of the ladies over.

“It’s almost time,” she said and shooed them out the door.

And then it was just Lady McCall and Allison in the room.

“He’ll be a good husband,” she said.

“I know,” Allison told her sincerely. “We’ll be good to each other.”

Lady McCall stared at her for a moment and then nodded.

“You’re certainly not what I expected,” she said.

Allison grinned to herself.

“I’ve heard that before,” she said.

Lady McCall smiled. “Well, good luck,” she said.

She hesitated a moment and then pulled Allison into a hug. It was over almost before Allison could return it and she stared at the open door in bemusement.

There was still much to figure out here and Allison would have to prove herself a worthy lady of Wolf’s Keep. But, she thought, as she made her way to the Great Hall and surveyed the room, she’d weathered worse.

Scott stood at the front of the room, Stiles at his left hand. That was sure to cause a small scandal; Stiles was supposed to be sitting with Derek but they’d all insisted he be part of the ceremony even if he wasn’t officially part of the union yet. But someday soon. And then, Allison thought, they could get started on their own happily forever after.

A voice cleared behind her and Allison turned to see her father holding out his arm.

“Ready?” he asked.

Allison fit her hand to the crook of his elbow and nodded.

“I think so,” she said, and took her first step forward.

 


End file.
